Backstory
by Master Liar
Summary: Fitzsimmons moments to accompany each episode - can be continuations of scenes we see on screen, or just little snippets to give more backstory to the characters. Includes appearances from all characters, but Fitzsimmons are the main focus of these stories.
1. Pilot - Season 1 Ep 1

_A/N: Since these are stories that accompany each episode, I suppose you could just pick and choose to read the ones that correspond to your favorite episodes. But I would keep in mind that some of these stories may draw from previous stories within this series. So, for example, if F.Z.Z.T is one of your favorite episodes (as it should be!) and you just skip straight ahead to reading that story, yay! I hope you enjoy it! But there may be something in there that references something in the Fitzsimmons relationship that was never mentioned on the show but was established back in my story for "0-8-4." It shouldn't hinder your enjoyment of the story, but it may add to it. :) Okay, I think that's all my notes! Hope you enjoy! Please review/comment/leave your suggestions for future stories!_

"Hey, Fitzsimmons, I have a question for you," Skye said, running after the duo as they left the lab. They had spent the last several hours running tests of every sample they had collected from the Extremis adventure and were on their way to the kitchen to enjoy a much-deserved beer and celebrate their first mission on the Bus.

The pair halted and turned in unison.

"Yes?" Asked Simmons, smiling politely.

"Oh! Um…" Skye stalled, taking a moment to catch her breath and collect her thoughts. She really hadn't though this far ahead. "I…. Well…"

Simmons arched an eyebrow, encouraging her.

"Istheresuchathingastruthserum?" Skye muttered under her breath, smashing the words together in embarassment. "I'm sorry?" Simmons politely asked as Fitz broke out a broad smile, rocking back on his heels.

"Yeah, um, when Coulson first brought me in here, he gave Ward truth serum to get me to trust them, or some sort of reverse psychology… Thing…" Skye trailed off, still looking slightly ashamed. "I just… I mean, I know I'm new to this SHIELD stuff, and truth serum sounds pretty far out there, but I just witnessed a whole lot of stuff today that was what I would have previously classified as 'really, really far out there,' so I'm just wondering if this is just one of those things I need to learn to accept as my new reality," she finished. "I mean, since it seems like I'll be sticking around here for a while."

"Definitely real." Fitz said clearly, crossing his arms and smirking.

Simmons turned to her partner, a look of surprise flickering across her face before locking eyes with Fitz. The pair stared at each other a moment before Simmons smiled broadly, her expression matching Fitz's.

"Yessss," she said slowly, turning back to face their friend. "In fact-"

"Simmons designed it," Fitz said, cutting her off.

The biochemist's forced smile grew a little more forced as she glanced back at him in confusion, but she agreed. "Yes, yes I did."

"Oh, okay, well, wow!" Skye said, clearly impressed. She smiled, and leaned forward toward Simmons, lowering her voice, "It really works, you know."

"Well of course it does," Fitz said, his voice hardening in defense of his partner, "She invented it."

"Of course," Skye agreed, smiling and looking somewhat relieved. "Anyway, I'm off to eat," she said, starting to walk away, "but thanks for letting me know I'm not totally crazy!" She waved and turned, heading down the hall.

Fitzsimmons exchanged a look and quickly turned in unison to continue the other direction down the hall.

"Why did you tell her that?" Simmons whispered harshly at Fitz. "We've never handled any truth serums before. We heard rumors about one at the Academy, of course, but we've never seen proof that it works!"

Fitz smiled, leaning forward ahead of her and opening the door as they entered the lab. "Skye is new here. Remember our first few months in SHIELD when we were so gullible and willing to suspend all our disbelief and understanding of even basic laws of physics?"

"Ahh, yes," Simmons agreed, her eyes looking faraway as she remembered, smiling. "I believe at one point you tried to convince me that the Earth had been carved out of a huge rock by Asgardians."

Fitz turned slightly pink, scratching behind his ear, "Yeah, well, at least I didn't come up to you, excited because I had just found out about a monkey that had the ability to speak fluent English!"

Simmons whirled on him, eyes wide and dancing. "Hey!" She hit him lightly on the chest, "I really did think it was true! And I of course had to tell you!" She walked over to her lab station, shrugging on her lab coat, "It's not my fault we were the youngest students the academy had ever seen. Everyone targeted us!"

Fitz agreed, heading over to his station at the lab.

"Hey, why did you say I invented it?" Simmons' voice called him back.

"Huh?" Fitz asked, returning to her side.

"The truth serum. Why did you say I invited it?"

"Oh," Fitz said, sinking into a high chair next to her station that she had pulled over the moment they moved into this lab, specifically for his use. "Well, remember how they taught us that every good lie has to have at least some element of truth? That's it."

Simmons set down the liquid she had been measuring into a beaker and turned to Fitz, confused. "What? But I haven't invented it."

"Well, no, not yet," Fitz said. "But you could, if you wanted to. Even if it does exist, your formula would undoubtedly be significantly more effective. I imagine you could do it in a day, if you wanted," he said casually, leaning forward and propping his elbows on top of the table as he smiled at Simmons, waiting.

He saw the wheels in her head start to turn and his smile grew larger.

"Why," she started, then paused, still thinking, "Yes, I think I could!" She said, grabbing a notepad and starting to scribble away. "I think the biggest challenge would be finding a willing test subject," she reflected, pausing to stare blankly at the page as her brain continued working a mile a minute.

"Oh, that's not a problem. You've got me," Fitz shrugged, pulling out his own notepad and starting to sketch out the best delivery mechanism for the serum. "I think I could modify the current vaccine injection gun we have to create a concise dose that would go straight into the veins," he said.

He scribbled for another moment, then paused and looked up as he sensed Simmons' eyes on him.

"What?"

"You'd willingly allow me to use truth serum on you?" she asked.

"Yeah, why not," Fitz said, returning to his work. "You know everything anyway. Actually, I may be a poor test subject, because I'd never try to lie to you. I don't know if I physically can."

A small smile broke out onto Simmons' face, but she quickly reigned it in. "No, I suppose I couldn't either," she agreed. "Lie to you, I mean."

The pair worked in companionable silence for another few minutes before Fitz said, "You know, if we had a monkey, we could teach him sign language, and then see if he was capable of lying via signs-"

"Oh, Fitz!"


	2. 0-8-4 - S1E2

_A/N: The TV show Doctor Who is referenced in this story. You can enjoy without having seen the show, but it helps. If you've never seen it, The Doctor is from a planet called Gallifrey, which is where all Time Lords are from. Gallifrey is long since destroyed. Clara is a girl who appears throughout different periods in history whom the Doctor keeps running into. (He can travel through time, and she isn't supposed to be able to, which is why she's nicknamed "The Impossible Girl.") I recommend you check the show out - it's quite fun! I particularly like the Matt Smith seasons with Amy Pond (Karen Gillan) as the companion._

"Do you think the Doctor technically counts as on 0-8-4?"

Simmons turned to look at Fitz seated next to her on the couch, stuffing handfuls of popcorn into his mouth.

"What?" She asked, leaning forward to pause the Doctor Who episode the pair were watching.

Fitz swallowed the popcorn, clearing his throat before asking again, much clearer, "Do you think the Doctor would be an 0-8-4?"

"I…." Simmons started to respond, then paused, squinting her eyes at the screen as she sat up straighter, actually taking the question seriously. "Well, I was going to say that technically, no, of course not, he's a 900-something year old Time Lord from Gallifrey, so his origin is known. But,"

"But," Fitz broke in, continuing for her, "since he is over 900 years old, no one is around to verify his claim. And since he travels through time, he would be able to manipulate any history book he wanted to reflect any origin story that he wanted."

"Yes, so really his origin could be any fiction that he created!" Simmons said, breaking into a smile. "Although, doesn't the fact that he is able to travel time automatically define him in some way? The same way that if you or I were to be biologically examined, we would certainly reflect an upbringing on Earth."

"True, but his planet no longer exists. And, as we previously deduced, he can manipulate all the evidence he wants, so there's no way to absolutely prove he's from the planet he claims since the planet is no longer there."

"But all Time Lords are from Gallifrey."

"So he says."

"So history sa — ahh, but again, he are faced with the irrefutable fact that he can control history." Simmons laughed lightly and turned to exchange broad smiles with Fitz, basking in the comfortable, familiar feeling of another solution found.

Simmons reached over and grabbed a handful of popcorn, playfully batting away Fitz' arm as he tried to block her access. "What brought up your question?" She asked.

"Oh," Fitz answered, words once again muffled by popcorn. "Just something Skye said. She was asking about 0-8-4s and if it's possible for one to be a person. I told her it was unlikely, but possible. I've been thinking about it all afternoon, and I thought the Doctor was probably the only person who could fit that category."

Simmons hummed her agreement and leaned forward, hitting play on the remote to resume their episode. "Very astute, Dr. Fitz."

The pair leaned back into the couch, Fitz finally relinquishing his strangelhold on the bowl of popcorn, setting it between them so Simmons could easily reach it.

Both were silent for a few moments, enjoying the rerun of their favorite episode. As they watched the Doctor spit beans into the sink, accusing a young Amy Pond of poisoning him, Simmons froze, her hand hovering above the popcorn bowl.

"But, Fitz, by that logic," she said slowly, still working out the hypothesis in her mind, "Wouldn't Clara also be an 0-8-4?"

"Oh, The Impossible Girl! Of course!" Fitz exclaimed, hitting pause himself this time. The pair were off again, debating Clara's eligibility for 0-8-4 designation well into the night.


	3. The Asset - S1E3

_A/N: I don't know exactly what was told to the team about Dr. Hall after the events of this episode. I suppose since Coulson doesn't know he was sucked into the gravitonium, they either believe he's moved on with his life, or he was killed in the destruction caused by the element. For the purposes of this story, Fitzsimmons believe him to be dead. Please comment if I'm forgetting something from the episode if he's referenced in a future episode as being alive._

"Simmons?" Fitz said softly, his focus not wavering from the glass clutched in his hand.

"Yeah?" Simmons echoed, just as quietly. She reached for the glass and took another sip, wincing only slightly as the liquid burned her throat. She had years of practice drinking Fitz' lab-brewed alcohol, but she still occasionally found it a bit too strong.

She never said anything though, as Fitz' Scottish roots had him drinking the stuff like water. And she would never want to offend him - he was rightfully quite proud of his concoction, all smooth and silky - but the alcohol content was off the charts. Simmons returned the glass to his hands.

"What would you do if you had gravitonium?"

"What?" Simmons asked, surprised. Her voice returned to its normal volume in shock. She had expected him to be grieving Dr. Hall, as she was. It was so unusual for her mind not to be on the same track as his, she had to take a moment to gather her thoughts.

"I mean," Fitz glanced up guiltily, instantly understanding her surprise. "I'm sad about Dr. Hall, obviously," he said, nodding toward their shared drink, "But I can't turn off the scientist part of my brain. I can't stop thinking about all the possibilities of his discovery..." He trailed off, seeing her surprised expression softening. "I feel sort of bad about it, actually," he admitted, ducking his eyes back away from her.

"Oh, Fitz, don't feel bad," Simmons said, reaching out and resting her hand on his forearm. "Dr. Hall would be thrilled at your interest! And with your inquisitive nature, I don't think it's even possible to 'turn off the scientist part of your brain,' as you said. That would be your whole brain!" She smiled kindly at his huff of displeasure. "Okay, fine," she admitted, lightly squeezing his arm, "You have space in your brain from extreme kindness and humor and loyalty... But the rest is all science."

Fitz rolled his eyes but Simmons could see the smile he tried to hide every time she complimented him.

"Now, what were you saying?" She encouraged, trying to get them back on track. She removed her hand and reached for the glass again, determined to finish her half.

"I was saying, what would you do if you had gravitonium?" Fitz repeated, taking the glass back from her and taking a much deeper gulp than she had managed.

"Well, I," Simmons started, then halted. "Fitz, that's much too dangerous to even consider!" She exclaimed, narrowing her eyes at her partner. "You saw what happened out there!" She placed her hand back on her arm, squeezing it again, much less gentle this time. "Please tell me you're not planning to try to recreate it!" She pleaded.

Fitz shook off her arm and snorted. " 'Course not, Simmons," he said, rolling his eyes. "I'm not stupid, you know."

"I know, but -"

"But I was just asking for scientific purposes."

"I know, but -"

"But nothing. It's not freshman year anymore, you don't have to treat me like I need protection."

"Oh, Fitz, I know! But-"

"You know, one of these days, I'm going to protect you and then what will you do, huh?"

Simmons crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips, saying nothing. She allowed Fitz to ramble on for a few more moments before he finally ran out of steam and fell silent.

"Are you quite done, then?" She asked, eyebrow cocked.

Fitz nodded and flushed, busying himself by taking another sip of their drink.

"I was merely saying, Doctor Fitz," Simmons began softly, quickly correcting herself to sound more professional than condescending, "that I know you. I know you very, very well. Which, by the way," she said eying him carefully as he finally looked back up at her, "is how I know you are perfectly capable of protecting me, if the situation every called for it. I don't know where you got it in your head that I doubted that," she said, quickly holding up her palm and signaling for him to remain quiet as she continued.

"And since I know you very well, I am very aware of your desire to explore and discover. It is a trait we share, as you know. So I was merely saying, before you got excited about the possibilities inherently available within the discovery of gravitonium, that I would urge you to be very, very careful."

"Simmons, I know-"

"Not because it's proper lab procedure," Simmons caught him off. "But because I don't want to see me best friend get hurt. Can you do that for me?" She asked, eyes starting to well up.

Fitz stilled at the sudden seriousness of the conversation, realizing suddenly that Dr. Hall's death had a bigger impact on Simmons than she had allowed anyone to see.

He smiled lightly and reached forward, grasping her hand in his. " 'Course, Jemma," he said. "And I'm sorry I snapped at you."

She sniffed and blinked the few tears away before they could fall. "It's fine," she said, squeezing his hand.

The pair remained holding hands for a moment, smiling at one another before Simmons finally broke the silence. "I'd steal a monkey."

"What?!" Fitz exclaimed, completely confused.

"Before, when you asked me what I'd do with gravitonium. I'd steal a monkey out of the zoo for you. We saw it lift a tractor trailer, I'm sure a monkey would be child's play!" Jemma said, like it was the most obvious thing int he world.

Fitz looked at her in utter astonishment before breaking into a huge smile and raising the glass in a toast. "To Dr. Hall. May his advancements in science always be remembered as the way Leo Fitz finally got a monkey."


	4. Eye Spy - S1E4

"What is this?"

Ward's voice echoed through the main cabin of the Bus, where he had just discovered Fitzsimmons playing poker.

"I thought you were tired of poker," he commented, crossing his arms and leaning up against the wall. He arched an eyebrow at Fitz, prompting a response.

"Oh… Yes," Fitz faltered, glancing up from his cards briefly before returning his focus back to the game. "Well, I lied when I was playing with you - you _don't_ have a tell, and I'm actually not very good at the game, so I just wanted to get out before I started losing a lot," he said, coming up with the half-truth on the spot.

"But Simmons does have a tell?" Ward asked, trying not to be offended the engineer would rather play with his partner than with him. It was understandable - the pair were incredibly close. Still Ward couldn't shake just a twinge of jealousy, a momentary regret that he didn't have someone that close whom he could always rely on to be there for him.

Fitz snorted so hard at his question he started to choke on his pretzels.

Simmons rolled her eyes and answered for him. "Fitz believes that I am a, what was it, Fitz? A 'walking mass of tells?'" She looked back at Ward, eyes narrowed. "He says I'm not a good liar. I want to disagree, but I fear he may be right." She shrugged and looked back at her cards, throwing a chip on the pile between them. "But that's fine," she continued, glancing quickly at Fitz to make sure his coughing fit had subsided, "Since I think he's easier to read than a book."

At that, Fitz sat upright and glared at her. "Am not!

SImmons smiled, amused. "Whatever you say, Fitz," she allowed, her response proving that she didn't believe him at all.

Fitz continued to sputter and the pair lovingly bickered as the game continued. Skye walked into the room, joining Ward on the wall, observing the pair.

"What's happening here?" She asked, wondering why Fitz had switched poker partners.

"Apparently, they play _bluff-free_ poker," Ward said doubtfully, nodding at the pair.

Skye hummed in understanding at her SO's comment, continuing to watch. After a few hands, it became clear that Simmons was an absolutely _terrible_ liar and Fitz couldn't keep himself from giggling every time he tried to bluff.

"Oh, okay, I see it now," she agreed. She watched in silence for a moment more before slowly narrowing her eyes suspiciously. She watched Fitz carefully for a few more minutes, breaking into a broad smile when she saw Fitz' eyes linger on Simmons' smile for a half-second longer than was necessary.

"Hey, Fitzy!" She said teasingly, "Do you need me to get those glasses out for you to use?"

Fitz looked at the hacker, confused. "Wha... Oh! No, thank you Skye, I am perfectly capable of beating Simmons without any advanced technology."

Simmons rolled her eyes at the comment, still focused on the cards in her hand.

"What glasses?" Ward's voice came from Skye's side but she ignored him, her attention still on the biochemist.

"You sure about that? You don't think it would help... see _things_ clearer?" She said suggestively.

"What are you going on abou-" Fitz started, then froze, his cheeks quickly coloring. "I, ah, I..." He stammered, his eyes flickering to Simmons, then back down to his cards. "Ah, no, _thank you,_ Skye," he said firmly, his tone warning.

"Okay... Just checking!" Skye responded sweetly. "You let me know if you ever want my help in that area," she said.

"No, I - ah -" The engineer continued to stutter, "I don't know what you _think_ you're trying to… Ah… But, I can assure you, you are mis - ah, mistaken." He said, staring so intently on the cards in front of him Skye would swear he was trying to burn a hole through them with his gaze.

"Okay, _what glasses,_ " Ward repeated, annoyed.

"Call!" Simmons suddenly announced, sitting up straight and smiling broadly at Fitz. "Fitz, I call. Now you have to put your cards down."

Fitz froze, staring at her overjoyed, face for a moment, then chuckled, realizing she had been in such concentration she was completely oblivious to the conversation. A look of relief flashing across his features before disappearing. "Simmons!" He admonished, flipping over his cards. "You promised!"

The female scientist shrugged, biting back a smile, "I know I promised, but I just wanted to see if it was possible to count cards accurately this early on in the game, with only 2 players."

Fitz rolled his eyes, "Obviously it's possible, if you take into consideration probability of-"

"Well, of course I took that into consideration, not to mention the likelihood-"

"Do you think you could make accurate predictions even earlier into the deck?"

"Well, I don't see why not, after a certain point it's all a pattern."

The pair chatted happily away, Fitz' exchange all but forgotten. Skye smiled and nudged Ward's arm, leading him out of the room.

"What was that all about?" The agent asked.

"Oh," Skye smiled mischievously, "I have a feeling you'll find out soon."


	5. The Girl in the Flower Dress - S1E5

_A/N: I have read several fanfics that take place during or after this episode that have very similar themes as this story does. I just have thought about it a lot from every angle, and it seems to be the logical direction a Fitzsimmons conversation would take after the events of this episode. So, if you see any similarities in this story to anything else you've read, please know this is not meant to be a copy-cat story by any means, it just means that a lot of writers saw this as the obvious next step or felt the episode needed this. Maybe in another dimension this scene was filmed and even made it onto the show. :) Enjoy_

"Ugh!"

Simmons jerked awake, hearing a loud thud resound from the wall behind her head. After quickly scanning the room for intruders, she relaxed her grip on the Night Night Gun she had automatically grabbed out of her bedside drawer upon awaking.

Shortly after she and Fitz had completed their work on the gun prototypes, he had knocked on her door late one night and handed her a smaller version, specifically designed to fit her hand. He hadn't said much, just walked her through its features and use, even though she of course knew everything about the gun.

"Just, Jemma, could you…" He had said quietly, ducking his eyes to the ground as he left her room that night, "Uh… Keep it somewhere nearby, yeah? Just in case."

His eyes had been so piercing and serious, so unlike Fitz's usual demeanor that Simmons had immediately nodded, remembering his comments after Dr. Hall's death, and the subsequent promise she had made to herself to make sure he always knew he made her feel safe.

"Thank you, Fitz," she had said quietly, squeezing his hand and smiling.

The nod and tight smile he had returned showed her she had reacted satisfactorily.

Another thud and grumble of anger behind her wall jolted Simmons back to the present and made her resume her tight grip on the gun, rushing from her room into Fitz's next door, where the commotion was coming from.

"Fitz?" She asked, bewildered.

The engineer froze at the noise, turning from where he seemed to be methodically pulling random books from his bookshelf and throwing them on the floor or across the room. "Simmons?" He asked, his voice equally bewildered, staring at her with a look Simmons didn't recognize.

After a moment, Simmons understood. She had pulled the gun when she ran into Fitz's room to investigate the disturbance and was still standing in firing stance, both hands on the gun with arms raised. And, Simmons realized, flushing, she was wearing her favorite ratty tank to sleep in paired with some very short pajama shorts.

Swallowing her embarrassment, it's not like Fitz wasn't a scientist just as she was and hadn't seen the human body before, Simmons focused on what was most likely actually capturing Fitz's attention - the gun pointed at him. She slowly lowered the gun and placed it on the desk near the open door.

"Sorry, I just," she shrugged, trying to play off her overreaction to what was Fitz clearly just have a mini temper tantrum. "Got a little carried away, I suppose." She smiled at Fitz again, trying to diffuse the tense situation. "In my defense, I thought you were fighting someone in here or something."

"Oh," Fitz said, looking at the pile of books against the wall between their rooms and winced, "Oh, Simmons, I'm really sorry, I wasn't even think-"

"It's okay, Fitz," Simmons cut him off, hurrying over to him and laying a hand on his arm, smiling gently. "What's wrong?"

Fitz shot her another apologetic look before frowning and kicking at the ground. "It's just," he grumbled, eyes downward, "I can't believe Skye would betray us like this."

"Aw, Fitz," Jemma said softly, rubbing her hand along his arm comfortingly, "I'm sorry. I know you liked her," she said, mentally cursing herself the moment the words passed her lips. She should not have used this vulnerable moment to verify her own hypothesis.

Fitz's head shot up, alarm in his eyes, "No!" He exclaimed loudly, then glanced at the open door and brought the volume down. "No," he said again, whispering this time.

Jemma eyed him, her soothing motion paused.

"Well," the engineer started to crumble under her all-knowing look, "I mean, I'll admit that at first I was, ah…" He paused, ducking his eyes and rubbing behind his ear in embarrassment as he tried to find the word, "Intrigued, maybe, but it's become clear she has no scientific prowess, so it would never have amounted to anything," he admitted, flushing slightly.

Simmons just nodded and smiled understandingly, encouraging him to continue and trying to ignore the twinge of something that had shot through her stomach at Fitz's confirmation. She reminded herself that he was speaking in the past tense and relief replaced most of that feeling.

Pushing aside the uneasy feelings, telling herself she would revisit what all of that meant later, Simmons spoke again. "Then what's this all about?"

"I just feel... betrayed." Fitz finally said, looking at his partner. "I thought we were part of a team. It was starting to feel like we were almost a..."

"Family?" Simmons prompted, knowing exactly what Fitz was thinking, as usual.

"Yeah," Fitz nodded.

"I know," Simmons said, her face reflecting his disappointment. She, too, had felt the harsh sting of Skye's apparent betrayal when they discovered the truth about her connection to Miles. She walked the pair over to Fitz's bed so they could sit on the edge. "But then I realized... They have a history together."

Fitz snorted, "So?"

"Well..." Simmons started, releasing her grip on Fitz's arm and clasping her hands together in her lap, bracing herself for his reaction, "Imagine you were on a mission your whole life to find out what happened to your father -"

"Why would I ever care what happened to that bast-"

"Just imagine it, Ftiz," Simmons cut him off, barreling through the scenario she had constructed in her mind earlier that day to deal with the afternoon's events, "Imagine that was your life-long mission. And along the way your life went on as it always has, and you met me, and we became best friends. And since I've become your partner on nearly everything, I would partner up with you on your mission to find your father, as well."

Fitz remained unconvinced, still watching her suspiciously.

"And then one day you have the opportunity to join the team of people who are directly related to your fathers' disappearance," Simmons continued.

"He didn't disappear, he left," Fitz interjected. "I watched it, remember - yeah, yeah, I'll be quiet," he said, waving off Simmons' look of frustration.

"So of course you would join the team, because that would be the logical next step to find information," Simmons continued. "And lets say you've finally found the information you've been searching for. What do you do? Reach out to me to continue the mission, or stay with your new team and drop contact with me?"

"Contact you, of course," Fitz said, his eyes widening in understanding. "I would never drop you, you know that, right?"

Simmons sighed, "Obviously. But you see my point?"

"Yeah... I guess so," Fitz relented. "But you and I never dated," he said, pointing out the one flaw in Simmons' logic.

Simmons gave him a peculiar look. "Yes, I'm very aware of that Fitz."

"But I suppose, since they did - were - ah... they dated," Fitz said, tripping over the words that hinted at his embarrassment, "That's all the more reason not to drop contact."

Simmons nodded.

The two pair sat in companionable silence for a moment, then Fitz rose and walked towards his desk, picking up Simmons' gun.

"You like it then?" He asked hopefully, a self-satisfied grin breaking through his glum exterior.

Simmons laughed, glad for the change of subject. "Of course, Fitz! It's perfect! I was actually even thinking... When I woke up because I heard you hitting the wall-"

"Sorry about that."

"It's fine," she dismissed, "I grabbed the gun immediately because I was disoriented from just waking, and wasn't able to identify where the sound originated. Wouldn't it be great if there were some way for me to identify where a sound came from, instantly?"

Fitz placed the gun back down and joined her back on the bed, crossing his legs and grabbing a pencil and well-worn notepad from his bedside table. "Yeah, that would be great, some sort of glasses or something that helped you see sound instead of just hear it?"

"It would be perfect! Think of all the applications it could have in the field - agents rushing into rooms hear gunfire but can't properly identify where it's coming from, or if someone is kidnapped and they hear screams but it's hard to tell what door they're behind, or," Fitz rambled, quickly flipping through the notepad's pages until he came to an old sketch of heat signature glasses he had worked on months ago.

"Yes! Something like your heat signature glasses, but they indicate to the wearer sound and heat since sometimes heat signatures can't travel through so many walls and certain metals," Simmons added excitedly.

The pair got absorbed in their work, throwing ideas back and forth for hours, breaking only when Fitz's phone beeped for his morning alarm. They smiled at one another, the night reminding them of so many successful nights of invention at the academy.

Simmons took it as her cue to leave. "Well, I should probably go. I think I may have to skip a shower this morning in favor of a quick cat nap," she whispered jokingly.

"I won't tell anyone if you don't," Fitz agreed, smiling as she stood. They walked to his door together and he handed her the gun. His eyes widened in sudden panic, "Oh no! We got so caught up in the sound glasses we didn't solve the initial problem - you can't sleep wearing glasses." The scientist looked crestfallen and Simmons opened her mouth to reassure him that it was fine, but then he continued, "Oh, wait, no, it's fine. I can just install the same material in the lens as a sheet on your walls so you can just see noise reflected on the walls."

"Perfect," Simmons agreed, taking the gun from him and heading out.

"See you at the meeting soon," Fitz said smiling, going to shut his door, but Simmons stuck her hand out to catch it quickly.

"Fitz?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah?"

"You know... What you said earlier. We are family, you know that, right? Even if SHIELD falls down around us?"

Fitz looked at Simmons for one achingly long moment with such affection in his eyes that the biochemist almost blushed.

"I know, Jemma."


	6. FZZT - S1E6

_A/N: I felt like the events of this episode were so traumatic for this pair that they deserved a little chance to cry or be angry or just let it all out._

"There!" exclaimed Fitz in satisfaction, sliding the final tube into the chamber of an injection gun.

He smiled proudly, observing the row of loaded injection guns in front of him, each loaded with a carefully measured vial of Chitauri anti-serum, and rose. Fitz groaned as he slowly stretched, his back tight from hours hunched over the lab table.

And, the engineer reasoned with himself, glancing at the clock and not at all surprised to see it significantly past midnight, the ache in his body probably had a lot to do with the unreliable adrenaline high he had been riding all day. It was to be expected, he told himself, practically hearing Simmons' voice telling him the same.

Simmons.

Fitz ran a hand through his unruly curls and shook his head, trying to physically shake away any thoughts of his partner.

Every time he thought of her, he just saw her falling out of the airplane, over and over. After their conversation in his bunk, Simmons had left and he had tried to sleep, but when he closed his eyes he just saw the same horror movie on replay.

Simmons, her name falling off Coulson's lips as Fitz was alerted to her condition. Simmons, her eyes starting to water as they stared at one another, the glass wall of the lab separating them. Simmons, her hair falling out of her ponytail and looking so frazzled, so very un-Simmons, that anyone who'd met her for even a second would know something was wrong. Simmons, her familiar voice reminding him not to call it a vaccine. Simmons, looking so heartbroken when the lab rat floated to the top of its cage, indicating they had failed yet again, that he wished he had been infected instead.

Simmons, falling out of the plane. Simmons, being sucked into the air, away from him. Every time he saw it, his stomach dropped painfully, making him feel like _he_ was the one plummeting to earth. To death.

Simmons. Simmons. Simmons.

Jemma.

His stomach rumbled loudly, snapping Fitz out of it. He carefully stored the anti-serum guns in a bin that would be convenient for any future run-ins with the terrible virus. He had been so worked up and his brain buzzing nonstop that after a few hours of tossing and turning, Fitz had marched to the lab, determined to get the visions of Simmons out of his head. He wanted to do something that would actually be _useful_ towards ensuring he would never have to see that look of fear on her face again.

Satisfied with a job well done, Fitz headed toward the kitchen, seeking out another distraction from sleep and the endless torture that awaited him if he closed his eyes.

"Je - Simmons?" Fitz asked, surprised when he walked in to see the girl who was currently haunting him quietly preparing a cup of tea in the kitchen.

Well, the engineer figured, if he couldn't avoid memories of her, maybe he could replace them with happier ones.

"Oh, Fitz! Hello!" She said, just as startled by his presence as he had been by hers. "Tea?" She asked, quickly putting down her cup and hurrying to prepare another cup before he could answer.

Fitz just hummed in thanks, walking up to join her at the counter, then spotted lunch meat piled up on a plate next to the stove. He hopped up on the counter, swinging his legs as he watched her. "You making a sandwich?" He asked, eyebrow cocked in amusement.

Simmons gave a tight smile, avoiding his eyes. "Yes, well, I was trying to…" She trailed off, taking a breath to collect her thoughts, "Well, yes."

Fitz nodded. She wasn't telling him something. "At 3 o'clock in the morning?" He prompted.

Simmons stayed silent, pouring Fitz's tea and finally looked at him when she handed him the cup. "I couldn't sleep," she admitted. "I just kept seeing your face as I jumped out."

Fitz paled and stopped swinging his legs, a shiver running down his back. The horror movie in his mind returned.

"Me too," he said. "Well, the same thing, just from my point of view." He said.

The pair were silent for a long time, sipping their tea and lost in thought. Simmons pulled a chair over from the table and sat down. After a moment, Fitz hopped down and mirrored her actions.

"So that led you to making a sandwich?" He finally asked, trying to bring the conversation back to happy thoughts.

For some reason, Simmons ducked her head and avoided his eyes. "Something like that," she confessed shyly.

"Simmons? What's going on?"

"Well…" She trailed off, her cheeks flushed. She rushed out her next words, talking so fast the words blended together. "I just wanted to say thank you for saving me, and I didn't know what to do, so I wanted to make your favorite sandwich, but we only have half the ingredients." Fitz continued staring into her hands, her speech returning to normal speed. "Coulson said we may stop by the Hub soon, and if that happens, I'll restock all the supplies I need, I promise," she said eagerly, looking up to meet his eyes. "But I'm so sorry, we're out right now," she said, her eyes starting to well up with tears.

"Woah, woah, Simmons!" Fitz exclaimed, twisting sideways in his chair and enveloping the scientist in a tight hug, "It's okay! You don't have to give me anything! It's just a sandwich!"

"Yes I do! You saved me! I was going to die and…" Simmons' body shuddered against Fitz's as she was wracked with sobs, "You _saved_ me, which was impossible. It shouldn't have been possible, Fitz, I _should_ be dead!"

"Well, really, _Ward_ is the one who-"

" _No,_ Fitz! _You!_ Not Ward, you! It's only because you're so bloody brilliant that I'm not dead, floating in the ocean right now!"

"Shh, shh," Fitz murmured, rubbing his hands up and down her back soothingly, tucking her head onto her shoulder so the pair were wrapped up in one another, "It's okay."

"Yes, it's _okay_ because you did the impossible!" Simmons continued hysterically, her voice continuing to rise. "You did the impossible, and I can't even make you a sandwich!" She cried, her voice breaking as she clutched Fitz's sweater tight between her hands, pulling him even closer.

In any other circumstance, Simmons' despair over lunch meat would've sent Fitz into a giggling fit. But he knew Simmons needed to let it out, and really, he did too. And if he was being honest, holding her tightly in his arms, a constant, physical reminder that she was alive, was just what he needed to rid himself of the waking nightmare of her fall.

So he remained quiet, shifting slightly in his chair to make them both more comfortable, and squeezed tighter, holding the sobbing biochemist to his chest like she could slip through his arms at any moment.

Like she almost had just a few hours before. The thought hit him quickly and Fitz allowed himself a few tears of his own.

Several minutes passed before Simmons' sobs seemed to slow and her tears began to dry. Still he held her tight.

Only when Simmons sighed loud, releasing her grip on his shirt to reach up and brush away the runny black mascara tears that had collected under her eyes, did Fitz finally loosen his grip.

"Thank you," Simmons whispered sincerely, staring Fitz directly in the eyes.

Fitz squeezed her lightly one last time before releasing her, his arms already seeming empty without her there. "You don't ever have to thank me, Jemma," he said, smiling. "I did it partly for myself, you know. I don't know how I would build all these designs we have half-completed with you."

Simmons smiled as she continued to sniffle, grabbing a napkin from the table and dabbing her eyes. "Ah, I see. So your heroics were really more motivated by desire to avoid extra work in the future."

"Great deduction, Dr. Simmons," Fitz smiled back.

"So…" Simmons asked, obviously embarrassed by her unexpected vulnerability. "So… I've been keeping myself busy obsessively cleaning my bunk and messing around the kitchen. What have you been doing all night if you couldn't sleep?"

"Loading injection guns with the Chitauri anti-serum," Fitz responded carefully, watching Simmons' face for a reaction. "Now we have a dozen guns loaded and ready to go the moment anyone catches that thing."

To Fitz's happiness, Simmons' reaction was that of delight instead of despair. "Fitz, how wonderful! Oh, I wish you had told me though - you know I would have been more than happy to assist you."

"I know," Fitz admitted, then shrugged. "I thought you would need a good night's sleep."

Simmons snorted, "I guess I didn't really fulfill that expectation this evening. But I am glad to hear you've finally started referring to it as an 'anti-serum' instead of a vaccine."

"Oh, I knew it was an anti-serum all along, from the first time you corrected me," Fitz admitted. He braced himself for the question that was sure to follow.

"But… Then _why_ did you keep calling it a vaccine?" Asked Simmons, puzzled.

"I think…" Fitz stared down into his teacup, "I ever time you nagged at me, it was a reminder that it could be the last time you ever nagged at me, and I didn't want that to be true. And I think I hoped that if I kept getting it wrong, you wouldn't leave. You would stick around because you'd see that I still needed you."

At his confession, Simmons' floodgates opened right back up and she renewed her sniffing.

"Oh, no, Jemma, I didn't want you to keep crying, lass, I'm so sorry," Fitz said, wrapping his arms around her quickly.

But the act was interrupted by a beeping oven. Fitz looked a Simmons, who didn't seem surprised, "You cooking something?"

"Baking, actually," she corrected, wiping her tears and standing. She walked to the oven and pulled on some oven mitts before opening the oven door.

A waft of sweet, chocolatey aroma escaped the oven and Fitz immediately stood and rushed over as Simmons pulled out a tray of chocolate chip cookies.

"Simmons, you didn't!?" He asked, immediately reaching for a cookie before Simmons slapped his hand away, trying to save him from burning himself. Fitz ignored her and reached for it again anyway, hissing in pain and tossing the cookie from hand to hand in an effort to save his fingers and cool it down.

"Yes, I did," she said, rolling at her eyes at his antics. "Honestly, you're going to burn the roof of your mouth again, just like you did after the Physics exam 2nd year and I you snickerdoodles."

"Worth it," Fitz said through a mouthful of very hot cookie. "Thanks, Simmons," he said, smiling and hugging her with one arm while reaching for another cookie with his free hand.

Simmons closed her eyes and tilted her head onto his shoulder, "Thank you too," she said quietly, finally allowing herself to relax for the first time since they had discovered the Chitauri virus.


	7. The Hub - S1E7

_A/N: Just a heads-up: There is moderate drinking and a curse word in this story. Still well-within the "T" rating, just wanted to point it out. Enjoy and review, please!_

"I gotta tell you, Simmons, I was _impressed_ by what I saw out of you today."

Fitz was walking down the main hallway in the bus and paused, hearing Skye's voice as he approached the common room.

"Really?" Simmons asked, he tone surprised. "I believe you referred to my improvisation back at the Hub as 'terrible.'"

"Yeah, that _was_ terrible. I'm just saying, I was impressed by the lengths you went to."

"Well, of course!" Simmons almost sounded offended. "Our team was in trouble! I had to do whatever was necessary to get them back."

"You mean, whatever was necessary to get _Fitz_ back," Skye prodded, her tone teasing.

Fitz's eyes widened as he quickly glanced around him to see if anyone else was within hearing range. He didn't _want_ to eavesdrop, but Skye's nosiness provided the perfect opportunity for him to satisfy his own curiosity.

"Well, yes, Fitz is a member of our team," Simmons said slowly, sounding confused.

"Yes… A very _important_ member to you, especially," Skye prompted.

There was a pause. "Skye, are you implying I only saved our team because of my deep friendship with Fitz?" Simmons asked, sounding upset. "I assure you, I take my duties as a SHIELD agent _very_ seriously, and I would do what I did today for _any_ member of our team, regardless of my personal affection for them."

"Whoa, whoa, calm down!" Skye said, "I know! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to imply you're not. Of course you would help anyone on the team. I was just saying… I'm sorry, I was just trying to tease you. About your 'deep friendship,' as you called it, with Fitz."

"Oh," Simmons said, confused again. A moment later she gasped, realization hitting her. "Ooooooh, you think we have a relationship of a," her voice suddenly dropped to a whisper, " _romantic_ nature."

"Yes, that's what I was _trying_ to say before this all spun out of control," Skye said, exasperated. "I was just saying it's a lot easier to be motivated to take action when someone you you really care for is in the field. So… You know…. Is Fitz someone you, ya know…Really care for?"

Fitz stopped breathing, guilt hitting him again as he knew with certainty that he should _not_ be listening to this conversation. But at the same time, he felt…. _Hope._

Hope? Oh, no…. Fitz closed his eyes and took a deep breath, willing the feeling to go away. When he opened his eyes, it was still there. Hope. _Hope_. The desire for Simmons to say _yes_ , she really cared for Fitz, _yes_ she had feelings of a 'romantic nature.' _Yes_ that she returned his feelings.

The pit of Fitz's stomach dropped, similar to the way it still did every time he pictured Simmons falling out of that plane. He hadn't wanted to admit it to himself, but there was no denying it now. He had a crush on Simmons. A very, very _deep_ crush. Right after the Chitauri virus incident, he had been forced to face his feelings for his partner. If they really were "just friends" as they had insisted for years to anyone who questioned their relationship, why would he willingly risk his life not once, but twice for her? Going into the lab with her and working closely with her while she was infected. Grabbing that parachute and planning to _jump out of an airplane_ , for heaven's sake…

He had always known he loved Simmons. In the way that you love a sister or a best friend. But more and more lately he was starting to notice the way the light from the TV screen while they watched _Doctor Who_ together reflected back on her face, highlighting her lovely cheekbones. Or the way her laugh when they discovered something amazing in the lab was his favorite sound in the world. Or how, when he got ready in the morning, he fixed his hair a little different, in a way he thought made him look a little more mature.

Oh how, when he was in a team briefing and glanced over to see her at his side as usual, staring intently at Coulson as he spoke, he was occasionally filled with a fear and anguish so overwhelming his knees almost buckled. The realization that, had things gone just a _fraction_ differently, she wouldn't have been standing by his side ever again.

He wasn't willing to see what a world without Simmons in it looked like.

So it was there, standing in the darkened hallway of the Bus, that Fitz the scientist finally forced himself to look at the evidence and draw the only logical conclusion: He was in love with Jemma Simmons.

 _Dammit_. This was just going to complicate everything.

Fitz closed his eyes again and banged his head lightly against the wall in frustration, the impact making a dull thud.

He froze, the reality of his situation suddenly flooding back to him. Had they heard him? Were they gone? Why had they been so quiet for so long? How long had he been standing there, lost in his own thoughts?

Fortunately, at that moment the Bus experienced a little turbulence, creating some natural thuds from within the plane as a result of the shakiness. Fitz hoped that covered up his movement.

"Thanks," he heard Skye's voice say finally, then heard the ping of two glasses clinking together. "Oh, this is _amazing_ , what is it?"

"Something Fitz and I created at the Academy after a long night at the Boiler Room," Simmons said. Fitz smiled at the memory, he knew exactly what they were drinking. "We call it 'The Solution.'"

"That… Doesn't surprise me at all, that's very sciencey of you," Skye said. After a long pause, Fitz could hear ice cubes clink around the bottom of an empty glass. "What's the Boiler Room? And is it bad that I already finished it? That was _delicious."_

"Aw, thanks!" Simmons said, and Fitz could hear the smile in her voice. "No, it's okay, I put a lot of ice in our glasses since the ingredients weren't cold. I'll fix you another one."

Fitz pressed himself even tighter against the wall as he heard her stand and walk towards the bar at the back of the room.

"The drink gets its name from the story of how it was invented. We had been puzzled on an invention for _days_ and it was incredibly frustrating. I was losing it and I know Fitz was on his absolute last ounce of patience. So we decided that we needed a break and to think about something other than the project and headed out for a few drinks at the Boiler Room, this bar on campus." Fitz heard her drop ice into a glass and then the clinks of glass bottles as she picked them up and set them back down on the counter.

"We came back to my room and still wanted more to drink, so Fitz and I invented this concoction," Simmons walked back to her seat and must've handed Skye her drink, because soon Fitz heard the hacker smiling appreciatively. "By the time we were in the middle of the second drink, we were talking about the project again, and just throwing out wild ideas to solve it, and what do you know?" Fitz heard her snap her fingers, "Just like that, Fitz came up with a simple, brilliant solution."

At that, Fitz wanted to burst through the door and reveal his eavesdropping, but he held himself back. He could hold his liquor better than Simmons and thus had a clearer memory of that night, so he knew for a fact that _she_ had in fact been the one with the brilliant solution. He had just been the one to build it. He had tried to correct her multiple times since that night, every time she told the story and gave him credit, but she refused to change her mind about her version of events.

A moment of silence passed, then Skye prompted, "You never answered my question."

Simmons sighed. "I know," she admitted, her voice quiet, "I just… _Don't know_. And I'm a scientist, I don't like not knowing something! Fitz is…." Another sigh, "My best friend. I love him so much, he is so important to me…. Have I _thought_ about a romantic relationship with him?"

Fitz froze at the rhetorical question, straining to hear every word.

"Yes, of course I have. But I never let myself get past that. I don't want to think about anything beyond friendship with Fitz, because I have a horrible feeling that if we were to get romantically involved, our friendship would just fall apart when it ended."

"Hey, you don't know that it _would_ end!" Skye insisted, echoing Fitz's thoughts.

"Oh, so you've already married us off in your head, then?" Simmons scoffed.

"Well, _no_ , I'm just saying-"

"You're just saying we make a good team," Simmons cut her off angrily. "Which I obviously know, and Fitz knows, and the entire planet feels the need to remark on. Why does everyone want to parlay that into romance?" She took a breath and relaxed a bit, "Being half of Fitzsimmons makes me happy. I feel safe and at home with Fitz. Joining this team, being out in the field… I'm really happy with how things are right now. I know I put on a brave face, but sometimes being here still terrifies me. It's one of the only things I don't talk to Fitz about, actually, because I'm the one who talked him into coming out into the field and getting caught up in all this danger, anyway."

Again, Fitz had to physically restrain himself from running in and correcting Simmons' revisionist history.

"I mean, today is the perfect example. The amount of danger Fitz was in… He could've died today. He could've _easily_ died. And if I let myself get emotionally invested in him - beyond what I already am - I would not have been strong enough to do what we did today and help save him. And if we hadn't been successful," Simmons started to choke up, "I would barely be able to function without him as it is. I don't need to add another layer of heartbreak on top of everything else."

Well, that was that, then. Fitz was disappointed, but a little relieved. He understood. Simmons was the more logical of the pair, he was more likely to get swept up in romantic notions. She, of course, had a logical response: Don't indulge the fantasy, and everything will go on exactly the same.

"Shh, shh," Skye quieted Simmons softly. "I'm sorry to get you upset. I was just poking my nose in places it doesn't belong, I'm sorry. I won't tease you about it again…. But for the record? I think being with Fitz would make you stronger, not weaker. The two of you together could be wonderful."

Simmons sniffed, "Maybe," she agreed dubiously. "But that's not a risk I'm willing to take. We aren't going down that road, and I don't want to think about it and get my emotions all muddled. I won't let myself even consider it. Besides, even if I did allow myself to develop a crush or start to examine or label my feelings, it's not like Fitz would be interested in return."

Fitz's eyes went wide, his body instantly warring with his brain between wanting to correct her and emotional self-preservation.

Skye laughed, "Okay, that's just one more thing you and I will have to disagree on."

"Huh?" Simmons' clueless response spurned Fitz to finally act. The biochemist quietly crept back to his bunk, took a deep breath, and loudly walked back toward the common area, approaching it as though he hadn't been hovering there for the last ten minutes.

"Hi, Skye! Hi, Simmons!" He said cheerily, smiling at the pair, who looked at him like a pair of deer caught in headlights. He ignored their looks and stared pointedly at their glasses, "Aw, you've been me to it! I was coming in here for a drink, as well."

He walked over to the bar and retrieved a fresh glass, busying himself by filling it with ice.

"Oh, well, perfect timing, then!" He smiled softly when he heard Simmons' voice approach him from behind, "I was just introducing Skye to our Solution!"

He turned and smiled broadly at his partner, "Oh wonderful! Isn't it delicious, Skye?"

He looked over at the hacker and was met with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Oh, she saw straight through him, alright. Glancing at Simmons, who was focused on pouring his drink, he subtly shook his head 'no' at Skye, pleading with her not to press the issue. Her eyes relaxed and he thought he glimpsed a hint of pity behind them before she rose and joined them at the bar.

"Delicious enough for me to want another!" She laughed, raising her once again empty glass.

The trio filled their cups and sat. "Now, Simmons, what was that about shooting 'a superior officer in the chest'?" He asked, mimicking her accent.

The girls exchanged a glance and burst out laughing, "Oh, Fitz, do I have a story for you," Skye said, leaning forward.


	8. The Well - S1E8

"We shouldn't."

"No…. No, we definitely shouldn't."

"Certainly not."

"It would be…"

"Irresponsible."

"Yes, completely irresponsible. And unprofessional."

"And all around, stupid. And we aren't stupid, are we, Fitz?"

"Course not. I would never call you anything less than brilliant."

"And you've the brightest engineering mind the world has ever seen!"

"Well, that's a bit much. I'm no Tony Stark."

"But that's only because you weren't given unlimited resources to play with since birth. You'll catch up."

"I bet Stark would do it."

"That's has nothing to do with the current circumstances, Fitz. Stark would do _anything_."

The scientists quieted and stared down at the Berserker Staff sitting on the lab table between them. The pair had tagged and catalogued the instrument and taken every possible data measurement from the staff without actually touching it with their bare hands. Now it was time to box it safely back up and store it according to SHIELD protocol.

And yet, neither of the duo had moved to prepare the storage case, transfixed by the staff.

"You know what would happen if we touched it, Simmons," Fitz said, still staring at the staff. "We can't."

"I know," Simmons said, resigned. "But a part of me really wants to… Just to satisfy that curiosity. But-"

"But a part of you doesn't want to at all and is terrified, I know," Fitz finished for her. "It makes you see the worst, most terrifying and desperate moments of your lives. The moments that would fill you with untapped rage."

Simmons nodded, still keeping her eyes trained on the staff.

"What do you think it would show you?" Fitz asked, quietly.

"I'm not sure, really. I mean, I _think_ I know what it would be, but the only way to know for sure would be to-"

"Simmons!" Fitz cut her off sharply. "You know we can't."

"I know, I know, I just… Don't like _not knowing_ things. That's why I'm a scientist! So I can solve questions!"

Fitz remained silent, patient for her to answer.

"I suppose… I suppose… Well, I suppose it would have been during the Battle of New York, when SHIELD sent us in to collect data on the Asgardian beasts Loki called in. It was such a nightmare, and the buildings we were running around in were so structurally unsound, remember that one even collapsed while we were in it and we barely got out with our lives… And those people, everyone was injured and terrified, and the children were screaming, and…" She trailed off, shuddering. "It's the closest I had ever been to a war zone. We were scared out of our minds but people were looking to us for the answers - we were just kids!"

Fitz nodded, remembering. Their time in New York as SHIELD cadets immediately following the Asgardian attack had been, until recently, the most frightening time in his life as well. The sounds of that building collapsing around them, grabbing Simmons' arm as she tended to a wounded child, pulling her toward an exit as she struggled, insisting on running back and getting the little girl… It wasn't a fond memory, to put it lightly.

Fitz shook his head, trying to move on. "Not jumping out of an airplane?" He asked wryly.

"Oddly enough, no," Simmons said, eyes narrowed as she contemplated her answer, her face the same way it looked when faced with a difficult problem in the lab. "I wasn't really scared during much of that. Well, I'm sorry, _of course_ I was scared, I was bloody terrified the whole time. I just suppressed my fear because it would be useless to let that take over." Fitz nodded. He was all too familiar with her ability to ignore her emotions and remain analytical. "My fear eventually bubbled over," Simmons mumbled, blushing. Fitz assumed she was referring to her hysterics immediately following that day.

"But really, I was just mostly sad," she continued. "Because I knew the moment that we realized I was infected… I knew what that meant. It meant I was going to die that day. We'd seen alien technology before and I knew it could take ages to sort it all out. So there was no possible way we would be able to understand an alien virus in just a few hours. I knew you and the rest of the team would do everything possible to prevent that, but ultimately, outside of an absolute miracle, my time was up," Simmons stopped her reflections at that and looked at Fitz, smiling, "Luckily, my miracle came."

"But really, there was a sense of peace around the whole thing. Immense sadness, of course, but mostly for things I knew I would miss out on - I would never win that Nobel, never be a guest professor with you at the Academy when we're retired and way too old for field work…" At this revelation, Fitz blinked. He hadn't realized she still pictured them as partners decades down the road. Simmons sighed, a far off look in her eyes. "Never get married. Never be a mum."

Hearing Fitz's sharp intake of breath at her last comment seemed to bring Simmons back to reality, "And I was really sad for my family and friends. I was sad for what my death would do to them. To the team. To you." She smiled sadly at Fitz. "But none of that was particularly terrifying or rage-inducing. I suppose if I had more than just a few short hours to contemplate it, I would have eventually landed on rage. Anger that this was happening to me. The stages of grief, and all that. I suppose its easier to react in anger when you're not the one in danger - when it's someone you care about, instead."

Fitz nodded, gathering his thoughts. It was interesting to hear the events of that day from Simmons' perspective. After Simmons' breakdown immediately following her jump, they had never really talked about everything that happened. Fitz didn't ever want to see Simmons cry like that again, and he suspected she was embarrassed.

"What would the staff show you, do you think?" Simmons prompted.

"Uh… Probably the same, I assume," Fitz mumbled, walking over to collect the storage box. "Maybe my da leaving? But probably what you said - the New York work, the building collapsing."

Simmons nodded and assisted him in opening the case. "Well, since I'm sure neither of us want to revisit _that_ again, it's a good thing we are being good little SHIELD agents and following protocol and _not_ touching the staff."

The pair pulled on thick gloves, then tucked their long sleeves into the ends of the gloves to ensure there was no exposed skin as they lifted the staff from the table and carefully tucked it into its case. Simmons snapped off her gloves and motioned at the zip ties resting on the edge of the table. "If you'll finish packing it in, I'll go generate its label," she said, referring to the unique barcode they created within the system for each alien specimen. She flicked on the label printer and slid into her chair, facing away from Fitz.

Fitz hummed in agreement, removing his gloves and going to close the lid on the box. As he lowered it, he paused, glancing quickly at Simmons to make sure her attention was on the computer. Seeing that it was, he angled his body so that it blocked his arm from the security cameras. Taking a deep breath, Fitz darted his hand into the case and brushed his fingertips against the staff for half a second, immediately withdrawing and slamming the case shut.

He froze momentarily, squeezing his eyes shut, experiencing once again the plummeting feeling of his stomach dropping as Simmons fell into the sky on repeat behind his eyelids. Just as he suspected.

Taking a deep breath, Fitz tried to suppress the new addition to that memory - a white-hot rage directed at Simmons for jumping, SHIELD for its stupid protocols, Ward for being the hero, even at the Chitauri for coming to the planet in the first place. He also had the sudden urge to go back and find Professor Randolph and punch the man in the face for trying to flirt with Simmons.

He mechanically snapped the locks shut and zip tied the entire case, providing a double layer of security.

"Dinner?" he asked, clearing his throat and approaching Simmons. Maybe being around her would help calm his emotions the way it had that first restless night. Her cheery agreement made him smile and he felt his overwhelming fury start to abate.


	9. Repairs - S1E9

_We observed that the subject was able to manipulate items from his present while still holding an item from his past - in this case, a large wrench. Able to disappear and reappear seemingly at random, the subject was ultimately captured when the reason for his corporal state was threatened._

Simmons sat at her lab station, typing up an e-mail to a quirky SHIELD academy professor whom she and Fitz had occasionally corresponded with since graduation.

 _Although Dr. Fitz and I somewhat disagree as to whether or not the subject could technically be labeled a "ghost," we both felt you would certainly appreciate this story and perhaps would be interested in more observations for your continued study of the undead._

 _We hope you are doing well and please give Dr. Mallow are best._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Jackalope Skeleton_

Jemma frowned, rereading what she had just typed. "Jackalope Skeleton?" She wondered out loud.

Frowning, she deleted her signature and typed out her name again. And yet, the moment the letters J-E-M-M-A spelled out on her screen, they immediately autocorrected to Jackalope. She tried Simmons again to the same result.

Narrowing her eyes, Jemma tried opening a new e-mail and typing her name in the blank template. Jackalope Skeleton stared back at her.

"Fitz!" She yelled, saving the e-mail to her professor as a draft and rising, intent on finding her partner.

She hadn't even made it out of the lab before the man in question appeared, a mischievous grin on his face. "You rang?" He asked sweetly, leaning against the door opening.

"Jackalope Skeleton?" Simmons challenged, crossing her arms and cocking her eyebrow.

"Hey! That's _Doctor_ Jackalope Skeleton. You worked really hard for that first PhD Simmons, don't you dare give yourself a demotion." Fitz said, smiling, brushing past her on the way to his lab station. "After all, you're always the one going on to me about how I shouldn't be shy when correcting people who call me 'Mister Fitz.'"

"Fitz!" Jemma cried, following him closely and slapping his arm lightly.

"Ow!" Fitz protested, still grinning from ear to ear. "Watch yourself, Dr. Skeleton! You don't know your own strength!"

"How long?" Jemma asked, staring him down.

"How long what?" Fitz asked innocently.

"How long has my e-mail been programmed to autocorrect my own name? How long ago did you go in and mess with my settings? How long have I been sending e-mails to very esteemed colleagues, respectable heads of SHIELD, good friends, even _my own family_ or your mother, without ever realizing what my e-mail signature said? How long have I been looking like an idiot?"

Fitz struggled to compose his face, "About a week."

"A WEEK!?" Simmons exclaimed. "No! Fitz! It can't have been a week! I…" She trailed off, thinking off all the people she had e-mailed in the last week. Her eyes widened and she stared at Fitz, her frustration slowly morphing into anger and embarrassment, "I e-mailed Peggy Carter last week. Peggy Carter, Fitz. THE Peggy Carter. You know how much she means to me. You listened to me go on and on about what a wonderful opportunity it was for me to e-mail her, and how I begged Coulson for him to let me be the one to do it after the archival team made those discoveries of early SHIELD-era technology. You watched me spend _days_ agonizing over that e-mail." Her eyes widened and she took a step back from Fitz, looking so betrayed Fitz's heart nearly broke. "You even proofread the e-mail for me! And you were sitting there, laughing to yourself the whole time-"

"Whoa, whoa, Simmons, calm down!" Fitz said, all humor dropping from his eyes and reaching out to put his hands on both her shoulders. "Simmons, I was joking, okay? I just switched the settings about an hour ago! Your e-mail to Peggy Carter was perfect, I _promise_." He watched the panic in Simmons' face start to drain away and he started rubbing his thumbs on her shoulders in an attempt to soothe her further. "Relax, Jem. It was just a prank to get you back for the shaving cream."

Simmons, seeming to have recovered from her near panic attack, hit Fitz again, this time on his chest. "Not funny, Leo." She said, frowning.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he said, enveloping her in a hug. "I swear, I know how important she is to you."

A moment later Simmons stepped out of the hug and sent him a pointed glare. "I already told you I didn't do the shaving cream prank," she said, still grumpy.

Fitz stared at her, unconvinced. "Really? Because I seem to recall one of your terrible boyfriends teaching you that prank at the Academy."

"Aw, Frank wasn't _terrible_ Fitz, he just wasn't terribly bright. Well, not at least compared to us. But at least he was fun," Simmons said, trailing off dreamily at the end.

Fitz frowned, "He was still awful. Not as bad Milton, though. Ugh, he was the _worst._ "

"You always say that."

"It's always true."

Simmons rolled her eyes, walking back to her computer. "Well, I promise I didn't do it. Anyway, come put my settings back to normal then." Fitz followed her, leaning over her shoulder to type away at her keyboard while she remained seated. "While you're in there, feel free to fix any other settings you messed back to the way they were."

Fitz paused, his fingers hovering over the keyboard, then opened up her word processing program. Clicking into the settings folder, Simmons watched him scroll through over a dozen common words such as "the, in, and, of, I," and more that had been set to autocorrect to different monkey varieties.

"Ugh, Fitz!" She protested. But she couldn't hold back the smile. Biting her lip for a moment, she rested a hand against Fitz's arm. "Hold on one moment," she asked, then took back control of her mouse and clicked out of the settings and opened a new blank document.

Quickly, she turned the screen away from him typed in the first three sentences of her favorite poem and then read the result on the screen, snorting in laughter.

"Wha?" Fitz looked intrigued, turning the screen back to face himself and burst into laughter.

"Oh, Dr. Skeleton, I had no idea you were such a wordsmith!"

"But of course, Dr. Monkey!"

The pair spent the next hour typing in their favorite movie quotes, song lyrics, and book titles to see what they looked like "monkified."


	10. The Bridge - S1E10

Another case, another death.

Simmons stared at the blinking cursor on her laptop screen.

Not just another death - not that any death was more or less important than the other - but this death was someone Simmons had seen as potentially being part of their team. A man she had flirted with. A man with a child.

This death felt different somehow than Dr. Hall who had died during the aftermath of the gravitonium case.

Simmons quickly wiped away the tears that kept collecting for the man she barely knew and forced herself to focus on her task at hand.

Lost in thought, Simmons didn't even hear the knock on her bunk's door. It wasn't until she could hear Fitz plainly calling at her to let him in that she snapped out of her trance.

"Oh, sorry, Fitz!" She apologized, dashing over to open the door and let her friend in.

"I was knocking for ages, Simmons. What have you got up to in here?" Fitz asked curiously, craning his head around the room for clues. He spied the laptop sitting open on her bed, "Ah ha!" He cried, smiling.

He scanned the screen and his face dropped to absolute bewilderment. "Jem," he whispered, staring at her. "Wha-"

"Oh, don't make that face at me, you Drama Queen," Simmons admonished, pulling the laptop from him and setting it on her desk, joining him on the bed. From the duo's perch they could still see the text of the open word document reading 'The Last Will and Testament of Jemma Simmons.' "You know I'm just doing what's practical - as field agents now we are constantly under serous threat, this most recent case showing that more clearly than ever. I'm just doing what must be done, should the worst happen."

Fitz gaped at her for a few moments more, then seemed to finally process your words. "You're right," he finally said, resigned. "It's just a precaution though, right?" He asked nervously.

"Of course! Oh Fitz, you don't think I'm planning to fling myself off a plane again?" Simmons said, trying to keep the tone lighthearted.

"No, course I don't... Sorry, I think I was just shocked to read that, is all."

"I initially wrote it back during my first year studying a cadaver. I try to update it from time to time, just double-check I'm still satisfied with everything."

Fitz groaned, rolling his eyes, "You WOULD be the only 13-year old on the planet to draft her own will." He laughed, reaching forward and snagging the laptop. "I suppose I should have one of these too, then? May as well see what I'm sure will be an exemplary example to get the gist of it."

He paused as he pulled the laptop onto his lap, half expecting Simmons to protest and pull it away from him. He had a strange sense of satisfaction when she didn't react at all - he never took their closeness for granted.

"Let's see here, shall we? 'I, Jemma Simmons, being of sound body and mind,' well that's debatable," he interjected, laughing at her dirty look, "'Do hereby declare this to be my last will and testament.'"

He scanned the first few paragraphs with all the standard lego mumbo jumbo that Simmons had of course translated flawlessly into her own document.

It was immediately following that that Fitz shifted uncomfortably, glancing at Simmons to double-confirm she was fine with him reading it. Simmons wasn't materialistic, but the few things she did value she absolutely cherished. Reading a list of all of her precious possessions - the necklace her parents had given her for graduation, her framed first patent - methodically categorized and assigned to someone else was proving very difficult for him to do. It really drove home the realization that if any of this came to pass, it was because Simmons was dead.

Simmons must've felt his mood shift because she gently lay her hand on his arm. "Fitz, it's just a precaution. I have no intention of going anywhere."

Fitz just nodded, and tried to take those words to heart. He continued skimming, seeing his name pop up a few places, touched she would think to bequeath to him her first lab kit, the authentic, handwritten sample of Marie Curie's work that he had somehow miraculously managed to acquire for her on her 18th birthday, even the stuffed monkey he got her to sleep with at the Academy when she was feeling particularly homesick. For some reason, those few items were the one that made his insides tighten, knowing that she loved those gifts he had given her so much.

Clicking onto the next page, Fitz's eyes lit up "Of course!" He muttered, reading intently now as he recognized every word on the page. "Our work!"

"Of _course_ I have to account for our work, Fitz!" Simmons admonished, and though he still hadn't looked up from the paper, Fitz could practically hear her rolling her eyes.

"Well, excuse me for not having been demented enough to plan out my own funeral," Fitz teased lightly, scrolling through even more pages of their work, impressed but not at all surprised by how well-documented it was.

"I haven't planned my _funeral_ , Fitz, I-"

"I know, I'm just teasin."

"Well, I had to include our work. We have so made so many contributions to science that really aren't finished. In the event that you are unable to complete the work on your own, I'd like to leave our incomplete work to people we really, truly trust to finish the job correctly."

Fitz hummed in agreement, noticing numerous familiar names from their time at the Academy, a few very high-level SHIELD operatives, and even a few Nobel Prize winners listed as beneficiaries of their various unfinished projects.

"These are just people you suggest I collaborate with if I can't finish on my own?" He asked.

"That's right."

Having reached the end of the will, Fitz silently clicked the print button and shut the laptop, setting it down beside them on the bed as he rose to fetch the documents.

"Fitz?" Jemma asked, confused.

He swiped a black pen from her desk and handed her the sheets and paper, "Looks like you're all done! You know you have to have a paper copy and a witness, you know," he looked at her pointedly.

"I know that, Fitz," Jemma said, sticking her tongue at him for half a second before grabbing the pen and paper from his hands and signing the last page with a flourish.

Fitz grinned, realizing how long it had been since she'd done that. Since before the Chitauri incident, he knew that much for sure.

Finished signing, Simmons sighed and walked to her desk, bending over to unlock the safe in the bottom drawer.

"Wait a sec," Fitz said, reaching his hand out and beckoning for the paper, "Where do I sign?"

"What?" Simmons looked utterly confused.

"Well, all of the work listed on there is half mine, too, right? Shouldn't I sign saying I agree with their bequeathment, or however you put it?"

Simmons stared at him, realization dawning in her eyes. "Well, yes, of course, I'm sorry!" She immediately handed him the papers. "I don't know why I didn't ask you in the first place - I guess I just assumed you would agree."

"Well, you were right as usual, Simmons," Fitz said as he signed his name and handed the sheets back to his partner. "I do."

Fitz sighed, standing to go. "Sorry - didn't mean to get so sidetracked," he apologized, grabbing one of his electrical tools from the edge of Simmons desk and heading out. "I just meant to come pick this up - I _knew_ I left it in here."

"Fitz!"

Simmons' voice stopped the scientist and he turned, poking his head back in the room. "Yes?"

"Let me know if you need any pointers writing your own," Simmons said, nodding at the Will stacked neatly in front of her. "I know you hate this sort of thing."

Fitz shrugged, "Thanks, but I don't think I need to write one."

"Fitz! We discussed this!" Jemma protested. "I know it's unpleasant, but it's necessary. What happens if something happens to you? Who gets all your valuables?"

Fitz sighed, leaning against the open door frame and crossing his arms. "Must we do this?"

"Yes!"

He sighed again, "Fine. Simmons, I don't need a Will. Because, as you well know, I don't really _have_ any valuables, and you have very nicely just accounted for everything I have that truly matters anyway, my work. If it comes down to it, just split everything of mine with my ma. You get everything science related, she gets everything baby picture related, you can split what's left. But really, can we just use yours as a joint Will? That's what would be best."

"What? Of course not!"

"Why not?"

"Well.. I need… I need more specifics. How am I to split things up with your mother? Do you have anything you'd want to make sure to leave for friends from school? You'll notice that I was very specific in how you were to make sure my possessions were split among my friends and family."

Fitz shook his head, "Yes, and it is all very well organized, Simmons, but really, I think you'd be better walking Coulson or Skye through all this than me."

Simmons stared at him, shocked. "Would you not want to be involved with my funeral?"

At that, Fitz burst out into a bitter laugh, a cloud passing over his face Simmons had never seen before. "Oh, please, Jemma, let's be honest. If you're dead, I'm already long gone. There is no possible scenario in which we are in a life-or-death situation and you aren't the one that gets out alive. That would never happen. I will never let that happen."

SImmons looked confused, "Why? Fitz, I assure you, you're much more capable in the field than you realize. No, you may not have the physical prowess of Ward or May, but you are certainly every bit of capable of getting out of a tight spot! Why, you just proved that on your mission with Ward!" She said, beaming at him.

Fitz smiled sadly at Simmons, ever his cheerleader. Best not to ruin the moment and clear up her misunderstanding at his comment. "Yeah… I suppose you're right."


	11. The Magical Place - S1E11

"Okay!"

Skye's loud entrance into the common room startled Fitz and Simmons, who had been in the middle of a rather heated debate about their latest collaboration.

The hacker slammed a cell phone onto the table in front of Simmons.

"Here," she said.

"What's this?" Simmons asked, as she and Fitz stared at the phone.

"Your phone. From your room."

"Really?" Fitz asked, sarcasm dripping.

Skye ignored him and barrelled on, "You are going to talk through it. To me."

Simmons picked up her phone, eyes wide as she clearly was just doing it to appease her friend, "Okaaaay..."

"And lie."

"Wha?" Simmons asked, sounding almost offended. Fitz burst into laughter, finally catching on.

"A little birdy told me that your lying abilities were absolutely awful today when you were covering for me. Which I didn't need confirmed, since I could tell from my end of the line, even though I couldn't even see your face," Skye said, crossing her arms and arching an eyebrow, challenging Simmons to disagree.

Simmons' face flushed bright red.

"So you are going to take this phone, and I'm going to take mine, and leave the room, and you are going to sit there and talk to me while not giving away to Fitzy here that you're lying."

Fitz scoffed, "That'll never work."

"It's true, he'll be able to tell," Simmons agreed.

"Which is exactly why we're using him for this exercise," Skye said. "You need to get good at lying, not just okay." She glanced between the two scientists, "I know I didn't go to your SHIELD Hogwarts, but surely you took a course on this? It seems like Secret Agent 101."

Fitz nodded slowly, "Well, technically, yes we did-"

"But it was just stealth basics," Simmons interjected.

"-and really, our scores in other departments allowed us to be somewhat lower than average in our stealth class-"

"-not to imply that we didn't get excellent grades, of course, it just wasn't a priority. Plus-"

"-we technically aren't supposed to go into the field without a Field Agent anyway," Fitz concluded, finishing their shared thought.

Skye just stared at the pair, eyes wide. "Anywaaaaay," she dragged, "I'll be in the other room."

She walked out, yelling over her shoulder, "It's freaky when you two do that, you know!"

Simmons looked at Fitz, her eyes pleading. Her partner just laughed. "I'm going to enjoy this," he said, matter of factly.

Moments later, Simmons' phone rang. She stared at the offending object as it continued to trill, looking like she was trying to decide to decide how quickly she could throw it across the room.

"Pick up the phone!" They heard Skye's voice shout from down the hall.

Sighing, Fitz picked up the phone, pressed the green answer button, and thrust the phone in Simmons' face.

Shooting him an evil glare, Simmons took the phone out of his hand and put it up to her ear. "Hello? Who is this?" She asked primly

"Ha ha, very funny, Simmons," came Skye. "So what's the deal with your phone? The case is like... heavier than normal cases."

"Oh," Simmons said, smiling a bit at Fitz and relaxing into her chair. "That added weight isn't the case, it's actually the phone itself - Fitz added extra battery life so it's able to last weeks without needing a charge, although I don't know what possible reason one would need need to have a battery that lasts that long, but I'm not complaining! It's quite ingenious, really."

Fitz smiled, but his joy turned sour quickly, "Actually, Skye, it's only 2 ounces added weight, and I'm working on a way to get it down to less than half of that, so quite acting like it's such a strain to lift her phone," her said loudly, angling his face towards Simmons' so he could speak into the mouthpiece.

Simmons rolled her eyes and waved him off, causing Fitz to sit back in his chair and cross his arms, frustrated with what he perceived as criticism of his work.

"No! Simmons! Ugh!" Skye's tinny voice yelled at her through the phone. "You're supposed to lie remember?"

Simmons nodded, catching herself as she realized Skye couldn't see her. "Of course."

"Close your eyes, take a deep breath, and focus. I really want you to get better at this," Skye's voice said.

Simmons did as she said, closing her eyes and breathing slowly. When she opened her eyes she saw Fitz looking at her with a peculiar look on his face. Realizing she had opened her eyes, he quickly masked the look with a smile, "You got this, Agent Carter," he whispered.  
"Okay, here we go Simmons. I'm going to tell you a story, and you have to relay it to Fitz, but change a few of the facts," Skye's voice said.

"Okay," Simmons agreed. "She's going to tell me a story and I have to tell it to you, but change part of it," she said to Fitz.

He just nodded, waiting.

"This is a very simple version of how I wound up living in that van. So I had a roommate named Becky that I found on Craigslist. When she found out I was Rising Tide, she kicked me out because she said she 'didn't want to have any run ins with the cops.' I did a little hacking and found out she had a warrant out for her arrest for Grand Theft Auto. I showed her that info and said either I live with her in peace or I turn her in. We comprised and she gave me the van. I suspect it's stolen, but honestly, I never looked it up because I really needed a place to live and I liked it - I didn't want to feel guilty."

"I'm sorry, Skye," Simmons said. "You deserved a much better roommate than that."

Simmons could practically hear Skye roll her eyes through the phone, "Simmons! Not the point! Tell Fitz!"

"Oh! Right! Um..." Simmons looked at Fitz, then slowly began. "Skye... had a roommate named... Rebecca," she smiled at the name, proud of herself, "Who kicked her out of the apartment for... uh... Stealing the van. That she lived in. Skye, that is. She stole the van. So her roommate kicked her out."

Fitz just stared at her, his expression unimpressed. He didn't say anything.

"Oh, come on, Simmons! That was so easy! How did you mess that up?!" Skye complained.

Fitz leaned forward, his arms still crossed, to talk into the phone again. "I'm assuming your roommate was named either Becca or Becky and she is likely the one who actually stole the van."

"Ugh, Fitz!" Simmons complained, shooting him a look.

He just shrugged. "I actually agree with Skye - she may not be as intelligent as we are, but she's right about this."

"Hey!" He heard Skye shout from the other room. "You're going to pay for that!"

"Okay, let's try this again, but this time, I'm going to make you lie to Fitz," Skye's mischievous voice came through the phone.

"How are you possibly going to make me lie to Fitz?" Simmons asked, unconvinced.

Fitz raised his eyebrows, shaking his head from side to side. "Never gonna work," he commented.

"By talking about him while he's sitting right there," Skye's voice came.

Simmons instantly turned bright red. "Skye!"

"Now, the other night we were drinking the 'Solution' or whatever you called it and we started to talk about Fitz. Please tell me what we talked about," she commanded.

"I can't!" Simmons insisted, causing Fitz to look on in curiosity.

"Tell me. What we talked about. So, either you talk about the fact that you won't let yourself think about a relationship with Fitz because you like things the way they are, or you tell me a total lie. I'm fine with either, honestly."

"This is not funny," Simmons grumbled into the phone.

"What's going on?" Fitz asked, leaning forward, straining to get close enough to the phone to hear was Skye was saying.

"Nothing!" Simmons said, leaning back and yanking the phone away. "Skye just wanted to finish our conversation from a few nights ago," she said.

Fitz's eyes grew wide and he paled. "Oh?"

"Yes - why are you looking like that? - we were just talking about her ex-boyfriend," Simmons said quickly. "How they met in high school and never lost touch. They reconnected a few years ago and started dating," she continued.

Fitz nodded, studying her face.

"And... she's... not sure about her feelings for him now."

"Okay..." Fitz drew out, suspicious.

"Because it could be great, or it could ruin everything," Simmons said, her voice starting to rise. "Skye, I mean. If she got back with her ex. Boyfriend. Skye's ex-boyfriend."

Fitz just hummed in agreement, still looking at her with narrowed eyes.

"Okay! So theres the story of what we talked about the other night! Oh, and also, we drank a beverage called... The Problem."

"Oh, come on!" Fitz complained at the same time they heard Skye's voice yell, "You've got to be kidding me!" from down the hall.

They heard sharp footsteps and then Skye arrived in the room, making a show of hitting the "End Call" button on her phone.

"Well, that was terrible," she said bluntly. Simmons frowned.

"I wouldn't say that," Fitz spoke up, looking at Simmons. "If you have to change a particular word or two in a story, you're very obvious. But if you make up an entire new one, you're not as bad. Still bad, but not as bad. I knew you were lying that second time, but I don't know what you were covering up. So that's progress," he smiled encouragingly.

Simmons' spirits lifted a bit, "Thank you, Fitz." She handed him the phone, "Your turn."

"Oh, I don't think Fitz needs to do this," Skye said dismissively, slipping her phone into her pocket and turning to leave.

"He doesn't?" "I don't?" The pair asked at the same time.

"Nope!" Skye said, pausing at the door. "He's a much better liar than you."

"What are you talking about?" Fitz asked, completely confused.

"You lie about something pretty big every day," she said, shrugging, looking pointedly at Simmons, and then leaving the room.

Fitz looked after her bewildered, then turned beet red. Standing quickly, he avoided Simmons' gaze.

"What was that about?" Simmons asked, clueless.

"Who knows, with that one," he said, walking away. "I have to finish up some work, so I'll just see you at dinner later, yeah?"


	12. Seeds - S1E12

"No, Simmons, just…. Hold it! Right there!"

Fitz yelled sharply at Simmons as he fiddled with cords in the control room, contorted over a shelf and squinting behind an electrical panel.

"Wait, Fitz, use this," Simmons said as she shifted the panel she was holding out of Fitz's way into one hand and pulled out the flashlight she had tucked into her back pocket. She stretched forward as far as she could and managed to put the flashlight into Fitz's extended hand.

"Thanks," he said. Simmons heard a few more grunts and swears muttered on her breath until the panel she was holding jerked forward as Fitz pulled on some of the wires running through their back.

"Lil' more leff," came his voice, muffled by the flashlight he now clutched between his teeth.

Simmons groaned in protest, her arms starting to strain. "How much longer, Fitz?" She complained.

"Jus' a min… Got it!"

Fitz twisted out of the mass of cords and placed the flashlight on the ground, quickly lifting the panel out of Simmons' hands and hoisting it up to reinstall it on the wall. "Whoa, Simmons, I'm sorry - didn't realize how heavy this was," he apologized.

"It's okay," she said, rolling her shoulders and stretching a bit to relieve the tension that had built up there. Fitz turned around after snapping the panel back on the see her still trying to work out the knots.

"Here, let me help," he said, stepping behind her and grasping her shoulders, attempting a shoulder massage.

Almost instantly, Simmons closed her eyes and groaned softly, "Oh, that feels amaaaazing Fitz," she said.

Fitz froze, glad she couldn't see his face which had just turned bright red. "Oh, yeah, my ma has a bad back so sometimes she'd ask me to do that," he stuttered, quickly giving her shoulders a few more squeezes before stepping back and directing his attention at the panel on the wall.

"Now, let's see if we've got comms back up," he said, flipping a handful of switches and carefully watching the row of lights above to make sure they turned the appropriate colors. "Got it!" He said triumphantly as the pair heard a cackle echo through the room.

"different than here?" Skye's voice filled the chamber, signaling that her comms were back up.

"Well, a lot more cadets jogging, to start with," they heard Ward's voice answer. "But I'd imaging the two SHIELD schools are similar in that they both demand the very best out of their students."

Fitz smiled, glad to see his tinkering had fixed yet another broken instrument.

"So I knew they were smart, but I didn't know they were that smart. They're like, genius-level smart. I-shouldn't-be-able-to-hold-a-conversation-with-them level smart. Change-the-world level. Nobel Prize level. Einstein level."

"A couple IQ points higher than Einstein, actually," Ward corrected.

"Which one?"

"Both."

FitzSimmons smiled broadly at each other they heard Skye whistle, impressed.

"So who was the FitzSimmons of your school?" Skye prompted. Simmons frowned at a crackle in the middle of her phrasing and Fitz immediately starting pulling on wires again, eager to make the audio perfectly smooth.

"Well... I've never really thought about it in those terms, but I guess I would have to say... There was this couple - Jeannine and James -"

"Oh gosh, even their names match," Skye groaned.

"Exactly, it was sick how perfect they were for each other. They were always finishing each other's sentences, and the way they looked at each other..." He cleared his throat. "I don't think anyone's ever accused me of being romantic, but even I sometimes was overwhelmed anytime I was near them."

"What happened to them?"  
"SHIELD split them up. Couldn't let them be on the same team, it was strictly against policy. James got injured on his first mission and Jeannine couldn't handle it. She left SHIELD, so he did too. I think they're married now, living somewhere. Normal people leading normal lives..." He trailed off, sounding almost wistful.

Skye hummed in agreement. "So they were the best cadets at your school? It must've been hard for SHIELD to let them go."

"Huh?" The confusion in Ward's voice was evident. "Oh, no, I was the best cadet. By a mile. I had the highest compulsory scores and broke several track and field records."

"Okay, He-Man, thanks for the humility," Skye joked. "I get it. You Tarzan, Me Jane. I just thought - I asked who the FitzSimmons was of your school, meaning who was the best. So I thought that's-"

"Oh! Got it. Nope, that was me. Although in the future, let's call FitzSimmons the 'Grant Ward of the Academy' instead of the other way around."

Skye laughed.

"I just through you meant who was the big class couple at our school."

"Ward... FitzSimmons aren't a couple," Skye said slowly.

Simmons rolled her eyes, "Honestly, how many times must we insist to our peers that-"

"Yeah, only because Fitz hasn't manned up yet and said anything-" Ward's voice interrupted her.

"You think so too!?" Skye responded excitedly.

"Hey, this is Fitz, come in Ward. Skye. Are you two there?" Fitz's voice interrupted their conversation, having grabbed a com and plugged it into the system.

A pause, and then, "Fitz?" Skye asked, sounding guilty.

"Yeah, we just got the comms back up and running, so let me know if you have any more problems," he said.

"Affirmative. We'll be back on the Bus shortly. We're walking there now." Ward responded, ever the soldier. A moment later, "Thanks, Fitz."

"Yep," Fitz said quickly, unplugging his comm and storing it, keeping his back toward Simmons. She hadn't said anything about Ward and Skye's comments, so Fitz figured the best way to move on would be shake it off. He squeezed his eyes shut and took a deep breath, then turned towards her.  
"Apparently we still have to keep reminding them," he said to his partner, who looked lost in thought.

"What?" Simmons asked, snapping back to reality.

"You asked how many times we have to remind everyone we're not together. Always one more time, apparently." Fitz shot her a sad half smile.  
"Apparently," she agreed slowly. The pair looked at each other for a moment, Simmons peering at him like she was trying to read his face.

He cleared his throat, suddenly uncomfortable. "Lunch?" He suggested.

"Sounds good," she agreed, smiling.


	13. TRACKS - S1E13

"Simmons."

Simmons heard Fitz's gentle voice calling to her from the door to the med bay on the Bus, but she ignored him and continued working, rushing from monitor to monitor, noting even the most minute changes in Skye's status, personally observing her through the glass of the compression chamber, checking the oxygen level, taking photographs of her wound to see if the blood had spread any more.

"Simmons," she heard again, louder this time as he approached her. She ignored him again and once again began her cycle around the room.

Monitor 1, monitor 2. Observation. Oxygen. Wound.

"Jemma!" Fitz's hand on her shoulder, on the same place where he had held her when she had broken down in the medical supply closet just a few short hours ago, halted her pacing.

"I'm very busy, Fitz!" Simmons snapped, shrugging him off. After allowing herself to fall apart in his arms, Simmons had thrown herself into observing Skye and keeping her as absolutely comfortable and well-cared for as the young scientist was capable.

"I know," he said softly, in that hushed same tone he had told her repeatedly that everything was going to be alright. "But it's time for a break."

"I can't take a break, Fitz! Skye needs me!" Simmons insisted, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay. She could not afford another breakdown.

"I know," he repeated, ghosting his hand over her arm and leading her to a chair near Skye's bedside. "And sitting right here keeps you close, just in case you're needed. Is this okay?" He asked, pulling his chair up close to hers.

Simmons nodded reluctantly, anxiously glancing back up to Skye's monitors.

"Now. Dr. Simmons. Tell me about your patient," Fitz instructed gently.

Simmons ran a hand through her frazzled hair and took a calming breath, finally focusing on Fitz. "The patient is stable. Barely. Blood pressure is low. Pulse is very faint. But she is breathing on her own."

"So what's happening right now?"

"The patient's body is working to repair itself, so she is unconscious. There are no signs this is a coma, so she should wake up in due time... Unless she doesn't wake up at all."

"Recommended next steps?" He prompted quickly, trying to keep Simmons from going down that line of thinking.

"Get her to a medical facility. As soon as possible."

"Which we are currently en route to. I just checked with May - we should arrive in the next 30 minutes."

"Good."

"Good," Fitz echoed, smiling sweetly. "Well done, Dr. Simmons. I think you've done everything you can for right now, yeah?"

"I..." Simmons glanced back at Skye for one more long moment, then finally sagged back into her chair, Fitz's line of questioning having snapped her out of her frenzy. "Yes. I've done all I can do. The rest is up to her."

"Which is frustrating."

"Not being able to do anything? Yeah."

"Look on the bright side - when she wakes up, you'll have a drugged out Skye all to yourself. You'll get to boss her around for a change, won't that be fun?" Fitz elbowed Simmons, making her smile tiredly.

"If she wakes up."

"When."

The pair engaged in a morbid stare down until finally Fitz gave up. "Tea?" He asked, offering Simmons a cup that was still steaming. She hadn't noticed it propped along the edge of the windowsill.

"Yes, please," she accepted, immediately taking a long sip and closing her eyes, feeling some of the tension drain away.

"How are you?" She heard Fitz tentatively ask.

"Ugh, Fitz, I'm fine," she insisted, not wanting to open up the floodgates again after earlier that afternoon.

"I don't mean mentally, Jemma," Fitz responded. His voice got even softer as he leaned closer to his friend. "I know you've been busy with Skye, so... Has anyone checked on you?"

"What?" Simmons seemed genuinely confused.

"You... The dendrotoxin grenade. You were touching it when it went off - practically wrapped around it. The very definition of close range." Fitz said, his eyes haunted as he remembered.

"Oh, right," Simmons said. "No, I'm fine," she said quickly, shrugging off his concern. "Just a little sore, but I'll be fine."

"Jemma."

"What?"  
"Remember, I know when you're lying."

"Well, I'm not lying about this."

"Oh, really?"

"Really."

"Then why did you react when I was hugging you earlier? You were fine and then I squeezed around your ribs and you backed away."

"I..." Simmons started, then trailed off, realizing it was useless. She gazed at Fitz for a moment, then sighed, standing. "Let's get this over with," she grumbled.

She lifted up the hem of the shirt up to the bottom edge of her bra so Fitz could see her entire stomach and half of her rib cage. Normally Fitz would blush, being eye-level with so much of her bare skin, but any excitement he felt was immediately pushed away as he saw a giant black and purple bruise spread over the entirety of her right side.

"Shit, Jemma..." He swore under his breath, lightly running his hand over the injury. She flinched at his touch.

"Sorry!" He said immediately, but still continued to run his thumb around the end of her ribs, lightly testing for broken bones.

"'s okay, it doesn't hurt," she mumbled, still shivering slightly at his touch.

Luckily, Fitz didn't seem to notice as he remained focused on his examination. "Well, it didn't break any skin, that's good."

"No, and if I hadn't been so close, I wouldn't have any injuries at all," Simmons said, her voice directed down to the top of his head. He pressed one hand to the back of her rib cage while he lightly pushed front the front with the other hand. "This - um..." Simmons stuttered, "This is only due to the force of the dendrotoxin releasing directly onto my skin."

"Which is why you were out for so long," Fitz muttered, brushing his thumb once more on the center point of the bruise and then reaching up to gently pull Simmons' shirt down. "Do you know how dangerous that was?" He asked, his tone accusing as he glared up at Simmons.

"Excuse me?" She said, surprised by his sudden change in tone.

"You. Absorbing the shock of a grenade, for God's sake!"

"What else was I supposed to do?" She asked, indignant.

Fitz stood, suddenly eye level.

"Not get yourself hurt!" He said, motioning angrily at her ribs.

"But he had a grenade!"

"EXACTLY!" Fitz practically shouted, then winced and lowered his voice as he heard it echo through the room. "A grenade, Jemma! Did you even know it was a night night version before you jumped on it? Or did you think it was real?"

"I-" Jemma started, then stopped, ducking his gaze.

Fitz's eyes went wide and he clutched his fists at his side for a moment, squeezing his lips together to keep himself from shouting at her even more. "So it's just by luck that you're not blown into a million bits right now," he confirmed, tone low but laced with fury.

"He could've hurt you and Skye," Simmons protested weakly.

"Skye would've been fine, she was farther away and had something to duck behind."

"You could've gotten hurt," Simmons tried again.

"THEN LET ME GET HURT!" Fitz shouted again, unable to control his anger. "Honestly, Jemma! Let me get hurt! Not you! Never you!" He threw up his hands in frustration and began pacing around the room.  
"Hey, why do you have to be the only hero here?" Simmons asked, suddenly angry. "I can't just let you get hurt when I can do something to stop it."

"Yeah," Fitz said, stopping his pacing and whirling on her. "And I accept that, and I appreciate it. But you can't do something that'll get yourself hurt - or worse - just to keep me from injury."

"But-"

"No buts, Jemma. Never get yourself hurt for me, okay?" He stopped pacing and turned to face her, his stare intense.

"Well that's ridiculous, I'm not going to agree to that-"

"Promise me, Jemma," he insisted, his hands going on her shoulders as he held her gaze.

"Don't be absurd! I couldn't possibly make that promise! If there is anything in my power I can do to help you, of course I'm always going to -"

"Promise," Fitz said again, desperate.

"Fitz! What are you on about? Of course not! Why are you acting so insane?!" Simmons asked, staring at him as he removed his hands from her shoulders and ran them through his unkempt hair and practically growled in frustration.

"Fitz!" She called after him as he marched out of the room, passing May as she walked in.

"Bloody frustrating woman. Stupid genius," he muttered under his breath. "Agent May, can you help Doctor Simmons wrap her fractured ribs? She'll tell you she doesn't have any, but ignore her. She doesn't have the best judgement right now."

"Fitz!" Simmons yelled again, this time in disapproval. "Oh, honestly," she rolled her eyes as her partner disappeared around the corner.

May passed a wary eye between Simmons and the door Fitz had walked out of, then arched an eyebrow at the female scientist.

"I'm sorry about him, May," Simmons apologized politely. "I don't know what's gotten in to him."

May remained silent and reached for a role of medical tape, nodding at Simmons' shirt, indicating she should pull it up.

She did and May began wrapping the tape tightly around her ribs.

"He's been acting so strange lately. And just now, asking me not to ever put myself in harms way? Obviously I'm going to be careful, but it's unfair for him to expect that from me when I know he'd never hesitate if our situations were reversed."

May nodded, walking around Simmons and smoothing the end of the bandage against Simmons' back. "Men have a hard time accepting how little control they have in situations like this. They tend to act irrationally when someone they care about is in danger or hurt."

Simmons nodded thoughtfully, turning to look at Skye's unconscious face through the glass. "I suppose that's true. Until Skye wakes up, I expect everyone will be a bit on edge."

May, still standing behind Simmons, rolled her eyes. She reached up and gently pulled Simmons' shirt down to cover the bandage. Honestly, these two were getting painful to watch.


	14. TAHITI - S1E14

_A/N: Hi! I hope you've been enjoying this little adventure! Our scientists have a brief, 2-sentence sciencey convo in this one. Please know that everything science is 100% pulled directly from journals I found online, and I don't know what any of it means or if I personally should have any opinion on the subject matter, since I frankly don't understand it. So if you are scientifically minded and anything in any of these stories particularly enrages or excites you... know that I may as well be speaking another language for all that I understand._ __

 _Please leave reviews, if you're so inclined! They help me improve and give me an idea of what you're wanting to read more of!_ _  
_

"I can't believe it."

"Me neither."

"What was that stuff?"

"I have no idea."

Fitz and Simmons were standing on opposite sides of Skye's bed, looking down at the young agent. She was sleeping, having awoken briefly for the first time since her injury just a few hours previously. It was the first chance the scientists had really had to themselves since Fitz and the rest of the team had returned the day before with the GH-325. Simmons had been absorbed in Skye's recovery and Fitz had been in debrief, and then both had slept well into that morning, exhaustion and stress finally catching up with them.

"I helped Coulson look for it, but all the information we got was what you saw on the label," Fitz offered. "It was in a biohazard room, if that helps."

"... I'm going to assume you two completely ignored safety precautions?"

"We were on a timer, Jemma, the place was about to blow. Obviously we ignored safety precautions. And it's a good thing we did, too," Fitz said, indignant. "Since she was coding when I rushed in."

"Well, I suppose since it's been over 24 hours and neither of you show any signs of being ill, it's okay. Plus, if you're contaminated, we're all contaminated at this point, so... Not much to do," Simmons reluctantly conceded.

"I'm not contaminated," Fitz said, shaking his head. "You bio-brians are always convinced the next world pandemic is just around the corner," he joked, reviving a teasing nickname from their Academy days.

Simmons gasped audibly, faking shock and smiled, lightly punching him on the arm as the pair left Skye's room and closed the door, allowing her to continue her sleep. "Well, excuse me for wanting to keep the team healthy! We do live on a plane together, you know. Very confined spaces, no natural ventilation. If one of us gets sick, the whole lot of us is going down with them."

Fitz nodded in agreement as the pair entered the lab. They were silent for several minutes, both working on their own projects and checking on tests they had set up to run over the last several days. Fitz glanced at Simmons every few minutes, narrowing his eyes as he caught her forehead wrinkled in deep thought several times.

After a few minutes, Fitz sighed loudly. "Okay, fine," he declared, dropping one of his instruments on the lab table, the noise drawing Simmons' attention.

He stood and rolled up one of his sleeves, walking over to Simmons' desk and sitting in a nearby chair. He extended his arm to her, palm up, and made a fist.

"Oh, thank you, Fitz!" Simmons said, immediately abandoning her work and rushing to join him, pulling out instruments from her desk drawers.

"Just do this quickly," he said through clinched teeth, averting his eyes as Simmons made quick work of assembling some test tubes and a needle.

"Of course!" his partner said brightly, smiling a little too eagerly for his liking at the prospect of taking his blood. "You know, I was wondering what you thought of that article in the Science Journal this week about neuroimmunology."

"I thought it was fascinating, but the author's logic was flawed when she started to discuss the interactions between-"

"Between immune cells and the central nervous system, I agree," Simmons finished for him.

The two went back and forth for another minute about the article, then Simmons surprised Fitz by saying "All done!"

He looked down at his arm, where she was removing the needle and making quick work of bandaging him up. "Up you go!" She said, gently lifting his arm up slightly to help slow the bleeding.

"Wow, you're getting better and better at distracting me," Fitz admitted, impressed. "I didn't even feel the needle that time."

"Glad to hear it!" Simmons said, beaming. Even though both scientists each had their own forte, Simmons privately considered it a victory every time she was able to get Fitz to not express dislike at the "gross" work she often had to do.

Simmons hurriedly starting to run tests and analyze his blood, hurrying around the room at a dizzying pace as Fitz remained seated, watching her. He couldn't help but smile at his friend's enthusiasm. "You know, you keep running around like that, people are going to think you're the one with the unknown chemical running through their blood," he joked.

"Well, are you really surprised?" Simmons asked, staring down at a sheet of paper printing out results from her first test. "I want to make sure you're in prime condition. Well, I'd like everyone to be, really. Things are starting to go wrong very quickly around here, and the last thing we need is for anyone to be anything less that 100%."

"Mmm-hmm," Fitz hummed suspiciously, rising to follow closely behind her. "You're just excited because the next time Skye wakes up, you'll get to take a sample of her blood."

Simmons looked up from her paper, smiling broadly. "I know! Can you imagine?! I'll get to test a completely unknown substance - whether it be chemical or biological, who knows! It may even be alien, for all we know!"

Fitz paled for a moment at that, "Yeah, well, I hope not. We don't have the greatest track record with alien-borne bio, do we?"

Simmons' smile dimmed for only a moment, but then bounced back, "Well, that's not what this is, I'm certain! The Chitauri virus was just that - a virus. This, so far, seems to be some sort of medical miracle! And we know it's not a virus since it was used to rehabilitate Coulson and he's been fine all this time."

"Okay, fine," Fitz admitted, brightening at her reasoning. "I'll admit, I am intrigued to see Skye's results."

Simmons snorted, surprising him. "You say that like you don't detest blood work."

"Well, you're not wrong," Fitz agreed, plopping back into his chair next to her lab station, propping up his feet against the edge of her desk. "But I'll admit that my curiosity over GH-325 has overshadowed my dislike of all things bloody and gross."

"Says the robot," Simmons teased, tossing his Academy nickname back at him.

"Hey!" Fitz said in protest, both at the name and at her gently pushing his feet off her desk.

"So, Doc, what's the verdict?" He asked, recognizing Simmons' concentration face as she read the results of the rest of his blood work on the screen.

"All clear!" She proclaimed, smiling and turning to him. "And your cholesterol is even lower than it was last time you let me test your blood, so well done!"

Fitz blushed, slightly embarrassed. "Yes, well, it's not like there's an abundance of fast food on the Bus for me to indulge in, now is there?"

"Well, I'm just glad to know you're fine. And not infected by anything in that biohazard room. Can you imagine," Simmons reflected, sitting down. "Not knowing what infected you or how to help? That would be awful!" She said, staring off at a distant point, getting lost in her thoughts.

Fitz stared at her, flashes of her crying as they tested the Chitauri antiserum running through his mind. "Yeah, awful," he echoed.

"Anyway," he says quickly, eager to snap out of it, "How about you go run Coulson's blood?"

"Why?" Simmons asked, carefully filing away her findings. "I just tested you, and you're fine."

"Yeah, but Simmons..." He said, leaning forward and dropping his voice. "He doesn't know that. And don't you want another sample of blood with the GH formula?"

Simmons' eyes shot up, instantly meeting his. "Yes!" She exclaimed, standing quickly and grinning. "Excellent point, Doctor Fitz!"


	15. Yes Men - S1E15

"Simmons?"

Jemma heard Fitz's tentative voice calling to her from outside her bunk room door, accompanied by a soft knock. Frowning, she quickly saved the notes she was typing up on her laptop.

"Come in?!" She called, a question more than a statement. Since when did Fitz knock or ask permission before barging into her room?

"Yeah, I ah - .." She heard Fitz mumble as something bumped into the door. "I might need some help with that."

"Oh!" The biologist cried, jumping up and running to the door. She opened it to see her partner struggling to hold numerous grocery bags and free up a hand to reach for the doorknob. "Oh, Fitz!" She admonished, grabbing two of the bags closest to her in an effort to lighten his load.

She led them in the room, depositing the plastic bags on the side of her desk. Fitz followed her in, setting his bags next to hers and then turning her back to her, quickly emptying their contents onto her desk.

"And can I ask exactly what it is you're doing, or would you just like me to sit back while you commandeer my desk for your own use?" Simmons asked, amused. She perched on the edge of her bed, just behind where he was standing, and peered over his shoulders. "Fitz!" She gasped, seeing him pull her very favorite, and very expensive, bottle of wine out of the bag.

"What are you…" She trailed off, watching as he continued to pull out some fruit, some cheese slices and crackers, and a package of her favorite cookies. The engineer narrowed his eyes in concentration as he painstakingly began to organize all the bite-size snacks on a plate she recognized from the Bus's kitchen set.

"Okay, Fitz!" She finally said, loudly, standing up again and resting her hand on Fitz's arm, stopping his worrying over the food. "What is going on?" She asked, her stare drilling into his eyes when he finally looked at her.

His glance was fleeting, though, as he ducked his eyes almost immediately after making eye contact with her, and turned to cross her room. Nestled between a handful of her favorite fiction books, framed photographs, and various momentos that Jemma had held on to over the years was a decorative wine glass Jemma had received from one of her girlfriends for her 21st birthday. It was one of those hand-painted ones covered in sequins and bright colors, and not particularly Jemma-like at all, really, but the memories associated with the friend who got it for her made her hang onto it.

Fitz swiped the glass off the shelf and wiped it clean of dust with a napkin he produced from his back pocket, then set the glass next to the wine bottle, situated behind the tray of food.

"Is it my birthday?" Jemma joked, crossing her arms uncomfortably. Behaving oddly was so commonplace for Fitz that it was no longer odd to her - it was just part of her partner's personality. And he was such a romantic at heart, he had occasionally gotten carried away for birthdays or other celebrations. Though she would never say it out loud, Jemma suspected that since he wasn't great with words, Fitz chose to show his affection with gifts like this and spending time planning surprises he knew his friends would enjoy. So it wasn't the first time Fitz had surprised her with a delicious array of goodies or presents. But it was the first time she could recall that he had done so without any reason. And it was especially disconcerting how he was moving so mechanically and still refusing to meet her eyes.

"Fitz, are you… Is something… What's wrong?" She stuttered, her concern now growing into worry. Fitz busied himself with sticking his hands in his pockets and staring at his feet. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, then took a deep breath as though stealing himself to deliver bad news.

Her heart suddenly plummeted.

"Are you… Are you leaving?" She whispered, eyes wide and already starting to water.

He couldn't do that. He couldn't leave. He couldn't leave SHIELD, not after all the years and years of work he'd put in, how could he?! He never would! SHIELD needed his brain, he knew that! And forget SHIELD, he couldn't leave her! How dare he even consider it! They were a team, they were together till the end, he couldn't possibly think she would be okay with him leaving, why would she? What was she supposed to do now? Where would she go? Would she leave too? What would happen to their work? Who would she bounce ideas off of? Who would she talk to about her day? Who would she… Who would be her… Fitz was her… He was…

"Jemma!"

Fitz's voice, suddenly loud and harsh, broke through her thoughts, "Calm down, I'm not going anywhere." He dropped the hands she hadn't even noticed bracing her shoulders. He ducked his eyes again once her attention was back on him and started playing with the cuffs of his sleeves. "I just wanted to say… Um, well… I'm sorry."

Jemma stared at him, confused again. "Sorry?"

"For listening to Lorelei," she heard him quietly mumble.

"I'm sorry?" The biochemist asked, still confused. What was Fitz talking about?

"For listening to Lorelei," he repeated, louder this time and more sure of himself, looking up to once again meet his partner's eyes. "I'm sorry. For listening to Lorelei and letting her influence me." He stared off into the distance for a moment, almost talking to himself. "I mean, it's unbelievable, really. I truly can't believe that I let her take over my brain like that."

Finally catching on to what was going on, Jemma incredulously stared at Fitz for a long moment before bursting into laughter. When he flinched in guilt at her reaction, she tried to reign in her laughter, but it just increased the hilarity of the situation to her. Soon enough she was laughing so hard that tears started to escape out of the corners of her eyes.

When she was finally able to get it together and the laughter started to wind down, Jemma reached out to her partner and laid a hand on his arm. "Oh, Fitz," she sighed, lovingly looking at her best friend. He really was the most adorable genius. "You know as well as I do that there was absolutely nothing you could do to resist! And stop saying you 'let her' take over your brain - you did no such thing! She just took control, whether you let her or not. I mean, really. Ward - who has been trained for years to resist torture and brain control - not only couldn't resist but went so far as to help her escape!"

Simmons smiled sweetly, lightly rubbing Fitz's arm in comfort. "If anything, it just proves once more how much stronger your brain is than Ward's. She was barely able to manipulate you - just asking you for a small favor, really."

Fitz snorted, still not buying it. "Yeah, but just the idea of how she took over my brain. She had me going on and on, spouting her praises like some lovesick fool! Like my entire world revolved around her!"

Simmons rolled her eyes, not seeing what the big deal was. "So? That's what she does!"

"Yeah, but I… She shouldn't have been able to do that. My entire world does not revolve around her."

"I certainly hope not."

"No, no! I mean… Ugh!" Fitz practically growled, frustrated.

Simmons crinkled her forehead, confused. Fitz usually had no problem communicating with her. Most of the time, she knew what he was going to say before he said it. But lately, it seemed as though there was something she didn't understand about him.

"What I mean to say is… My entire world doesn't revolve around her, it… You…" He huffed again, stepping back and crossing his arms over his chest. "She shouldn't have been able to block out my thoughts of everyone else, is what I mean. I didn't like it. I wasn't myself and I didn't have control of my thoughts and I rely on my brain more than the average person and I really didn't like it."

Simmons nodded, finally understanding.

"She blocked out all thoughts of you. And of - of the team. I put you in danger. I can't believe I put you in danger," he says, softly swearing and rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm so sorry, Jemma."

Simmons' eyes widened, shocked by the seriousness of his tone. "Oh, Fitz, I was never in any danger! Not really, I mean. I was just temporarily quarantined - but it was in a safe environment and I still had full control of my facilities! There weren't even any men around, so I was extra safe. It was mostly the men who were immediately threatened, of course.

"I suppose," she continued, lost in thought, "I was in danger in the sense that the entire planet was in danger, should Lorelei have succeeded in her plan. But there were still several layers of SHIELD teams, and then ultimately the Avengers would've been called in, including Thor himself, that would almost have certainly prevented that from ever happen-"

"Still." Fitz's voice was firm, interrupting her. "I know Lorelei taking over the world was a near impossibility. But still," he insisted. "I put you in danger. I chose her happiness over your safety. Over all of our safety," he corrected quickly.

Simmons cocked an eyebrow at his statement, finally starting to understand. Ever since her very close brush with death and resulting impromptu skydiving exercise, Fitz had been slightly different around her. She realized now it always had to do with her safety. He must still feel a little guilt - completely unnecessary guilt - about not being the one to grab her after she jumped.

Jemma opened her mouth, about to set him straight, when Skye walked past her bunk, spying the tray of food and wine spread out on her desk.

"Ooh, throwing a party without me?" She teased, poking her head in.

Simmons laughed, trying to relax the seriousness in the room a bit. "Fitz feels bad for letting the team down," she explained to Skye, grinning broadly as she looked at her partner. "Even though I told him he couldn't possibly be held responsible for his actions."

Skye looked from Simmons' too-innocent smile to Fitz, seeing the engineer shifting uncomfortably and crossing his arms. Oops. She had definitely just interrupted something.

Seeing an opportunity to tease the most easily embarrassed member of their crew, Skye smiled. "Oh! So when's my apology wine party, huh Fitzy?

Fitz started, his face quickly flushing red as he ran a hand behind one ear. "Ah - I, ah… Well, you can of course help yourself…" He stuttered, but Skye was already laughing as she walked down the hall.

"I like beer more than wine, Fitz!" She shouted, her voice echoing back into the room. "And none of that snooty European stuff you all drink, or hipstery craft beer. I like good ole American Budweiser. You hear that, Fitz? I expect my apology party to have Budweiser!"


	16. End of the Beginning - S1E16

Fitz blankly stared at the computer screen in front of him, bouncing one of his legs up and down rapidly. He leaned forward and groaned in frustration, burrowing his hand into his hands.

He heard a loud tapping echoing through the lab but ignored it, still trapped in his worries.

"Dr. Fitz?"

A tentative voice coming from his right forced him to look up and pry his eyes open. He saw a lab tech, one of their newest, staring at him with slight trepidation. 'Be nice to her,' Jemma's voice echoed in his mind, reminding him that this particular lab tech was one of her favorites. Jemma was always admonishing him for being surly with the lab techs, telling him that it wasn't their fault they weren't as smart as him, and they so wanted his approval they killed themselves to try to keep up with him.

"Yes, uh… uh…" He trailed off, completely blanking on the scientist's name. Well, at least he _tried_ to be nice. What Simmons didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

"I'm sorry, sir, I just… Well, I wanted to check if you were alright. If there's anything I, or the rest of us," she said, nodding back towards the group of lab techs hovering hesitantly in the back of the lab, "could do for you."

"What?" Fitz asked, confused. "We aren't working on any projects right now."

"I know that, sir, um…" She trailed off, clearly uncomfortable.

"What?" Fitz repeated, louder this time. He watched as the nameless lab tech flinched. Well, dammit. It looked like Simmons was right again; he _was_ surly. The loud tapping continued, its pace picking up, "And what the _hell_ is that noise!?" He practically yelled.

"Your leg!" The tech shouted back, suddenly leaning forward and pressing her hand down on his bouncing leg under the table. The tapping noise stopped.

Fitz froze, staring down at her hand on his leg. The lab tech quickly yanked it away, stepping back and flushing. "I'm sorry, Dr. Fitz, that was unprofessional, I just… Um, I know that's what Dr. Simmons does when you're worked up like this, and it always gets you to stop. She told me once to help you if she was ever not here to do it."

Fitz remained frozen for another moment, staring at his now still leg as her words pierced through his thoughts. Simmons usually stopped him from getting too 'worked up,' as the girl had just phrased it. But she couldn't do that because she wasn't here right now. Because she was at The Hub. With Agent Triplett. And she was probably happy, off doing sciencey things without him, forgetting that she ever needed him at all. And Agent Triplett was probably standing next to her lab table, arms crossed in front of his chest so that his muscles looked even bigger than usual, smiling at her in the way that always made her giggle when she thought he wasn't around. Trip would probably lean over the lab table, not even caring that he was contaminating Simmons' samples.

"Dr. Fitz!" A voice broke through his thoughts again and his jerked his head up, forcing all jealousy from his mind.

"Yes! Sorry, sorry," he said quickly, standing and nodding at the girl in front of him. "Sorry!" He said louder, addressing the group of lab techs in the back of the room. "Thanks," he said quietly to the girl standing in front of him, still flushed bright red.

The fact that Simmons had specifically instructed one of their assistants to take care of him in her absence squeezed his heart. She was always taking care of him, even when she wasn't here. So now, it was time to man up and take care of her. He didn't care if Trip was with her, the agent's braun was no match for Fitz's brain. And Simmons needed help solving a mystery right now. He had to stay in touch with Simmons - he didn't like them getting separated when everything seemed to be on the edge of blowing up all around them.

Time to install that encrypted line.


	17. Turn, Turn, Turn - S1E17

"So."

"So."

"Let's never do that again," Simmons said, smiling grimly at him as they entered the Bus, snaking through the halls until they reached their bunks.

"Which part?" Fitz asked, happy to have the light banter between them after such a long, heavy day. "Are you referring to falsely thinking one of our own was a traitor? Or finding out that half of the organization we've worked for our entire careers is evil?"

Simmons laughed sarcastically, continuing to walk with him past his bunk and into hers. They usually split their time between each other's rooms, but lately they'd been hanging out in her room since she always kept it in pristine condition, while Fitz's room tended to get messier the busier he got. "Well, yes, both of those," she said. "But I'm mostly referring to us being split up in the middle of a major crisis." She watched Fitz key in the code to her room, a combination he had guessed within the first five minutes of them moving into the Bus and she had never found a reason to change.

"Ah, yes." Fitz said, glancing into the hall before closing the door to double-check that no one was close enough to overhear their private conversation. "I didn't like that, either," he admitted. Fitz followed her into her room and perched on her bed, grabbing a partially-intact phone he had left on the bedside table and started to pry it apart. Tinkering helped him calm down after a stressful day. "I didn't like that one bit," he repeated, focusing his attention on the phone so she couldn't see the red spreading across his face. If only she knew how much he had panicked when he realized she was stuck at the traitor-filled Hub.

"I feel terrible for Ward right now. Can you imagine? Being betrayed by someone who held so close? Skye said Ward once told her that Garrett was like a father to him. Can you imagine?" Jemma fretted, flitting about the room, straightening books and knick-knacks that didn't need rearranging.

Fitz snorted, keeping his attention on the phone, "Yeah, I don't have to imagine, Jemma."

"Oh, Fitz, I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking," Simmons rushed to apologize, joining him on the bed. She placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it once.

He nodded and she dropped her hand, effectively dropping the topic. She reached out for her tablet and leaned back on the pillow next to him. "Still. Things will be very, very different around here. I don't know what happens next," she admitted.

"Me neither," Fitz sighed, letting go of the phone and gazing at his partner. "But we'll stick together, right?"

"Of course!" Simmons said, tone cross as though the mere thought of them separating was ludicrous. "Don't be absurd. We have to stick together for our own safety - I was too worried about where you were to even think about my own safety! I'm the one who dragged you into the field, after all."

Fitz rolled his eyes at the age-old argument, "Once again, Jemma, if I didn't want to be in the field, I wouldn't have signed on," he said, answering with his usual reply.

The pair smiled for moment before Fitz blurted out, "I thought we were going to die."

Simmons' frown disappeared quickly, "What?"

"I mean, I thought you were going to die, mostly. When we found out the Hub had been overtaken by Hydra and you were still in there…" Fitz trailed off, shuddering. "I was so scared, Jemma," he admitted. "I hate feeling like that. Quit making me feel like that, okay?" Seeing his partner's eyes start to well up, Fitz rushed to lighten the mood. "But at least you didn't do anything dramatic like jumping out of an airplane this time," he joked, hoping his smile covered the pain he still felt every time he thought about that awful day.

"Yes, well, this day wasn't exactly a walk in the park for me either," Simmons admitted. "I didn't know where you were, either! I don't know why you were so worried about me - you were the one who actually faced the most danger! You actually confronted Hydra! That was so brave!"

Fitz shrugged, "Didn't feel brave. I felt terrified. I think today is the first day that I actually thought I was going to die. I've been scared, and out in the field before and everything, but it's always just been a hypothetical. That it was a possibility that something might go wrong and I _might_ die. But today was the first time I really, truly thought that I was going to die. I was certain of it."

"Not very fun, is it?"

"Oh, it wasn't so bad," Fitz said casually, surprising Simmons. Her own brush with death at the hands of the alien virus had shaken her to her core. "Once I got past the fear, I was mostly just thinking about my mum. How sad she'd be, how angry I was at myself for experience so much grief. Disappointed I was leaving her alone."

"Oh, Fitz."

"And you," Fitz continued, as though she hadn't spoken. "I was thinking about you being alone. Sad I wouldn't get to see you again, sad about all our work I'd be leaving unfinished. Hoping you were safe and someone would be able to keep you safe in the future - Agent Triplett or someone else, I don't know. Maybe Ward, once he's recovered from everything. Just… Everything I'd be missing out on."

Fitz stopped, realizing he was starting to ramble a bit too much. He glanced at Simmons and saw her staring at him, the same look in her eyes that she had when she was on the verge of solving a puzzle. He held his breath, waiting for her inevitable queries.

After a moment, she took a deep breath and smiled, "Well, fortunately, we're both here and we're both fine. Now! Aside from the obvious, did I miss anything else while I was at the Hub?"

Fitz thought for a long moment, then broke out into a wide smile. "Yes! Agent May shot at me."

"WHAT!?"


	18. Providence - S1E18

"How does it feel to be a ghost, Dr. Fitz?" Simmons asked, giggling. Skye had just revealed to the team earlier that afternoon that all their identities had been wiped, and Fitzsimmons were working through the implications of that. With alcohol. With lots and lots of alcohol.

"Well, Dr. Simmons, it's… Interesting?" Fitz responded, laughing. "But how can you be a ghost? I can still see you!" He picked up a piece of popcorn and threw it at Simmons, hitting her square in the forehead. She shot him a dirty look, making him laugh louder. "Clearly, you're still corporeal!"

The partners were huddled up in one of the bunks Koenig had assigned the team in Providence, electing to share a room while the others split up into their own rooms. Neither had voiced their concern, but after being apart for such traumatic events over the last week, they felt more comfortable together.

Currently, one of the two twin beds in the room was serving as their temporary card table. Fitz and Simmons sat cross-legged on top of the bed facing one another, a stack of cards balanced on top of Simmons' closed laptop in between them. Apparently Koenig had a strict 'no drinks or snacks in the bunks' policy, so the partners had smuggled some piping from the lab into their bunk under the rouse of experimentation and Fitz had quickly whipped together some of his science-brewed liquor.

One glass into the stuff and Simmons was hungry and much more willing to break the rules. She urged Fitz, the Scott of course barely even feeling the effects of the alcohol, to distract the agent while she snuck into the kitchen for popcorn.

Fitz smiled at Simmons over the cards he held in his hand. He loved her like this - well, he always loved her, he reasoned - but he especially loved her like this. Giggling, slightly buzzed, carefree. They both knew they were drinking for the worst reason - to forget. But, he supposed they deserved this. A proper night off, a night to relax and just hang out like old times, before the world came tumbling down around them.

"Um… Do you have any… threes?" Simmons asked, brow scrunched up as she stared at the cards.

"Go fish."

Simmons huffed in annoyance, reaching out to draw a card from the top of the pile.

"But seriously, Fitz. What do we do now? SHIELD no longer exists! Do we still have jobs? What do we tell our parents? I can't even begin to fathom how to put this on a resume!"

Fitz snorted mid-sip of his drink, practically choking as he struggled to keep from spraying the liquid everywhere.

"Don't laugh, Fitz! I'm serious!" Simmons said, her eyes, as unfocused as they were, pleading with him.

"I know, I know!" Fitz said, finally swallowing and catching his breath. He raised a hand to placate Simmons. "It's just funny, the idea of putting together a resume. I never even thought about needing one."

"Well of course not, anyone in our field would know us by name and SHIELD certainly never needed to see our achievements on paper, since everything we've created together has been for them."

"Then why worry about a resume now? Even though SHIELD, for all intents and purposes, is technically gone, we are Coulson's team. That's our job. We are sticking with him - and Ward and May and Skye and whomever else Coulson trusts. Because we're his team. We're here to support him."

"We're supposed to be here to support SHIELD."

"Yeah, but now that that's gone, we do what we can to support its mission. And you and I both know that Coulson will fight with every last breath in his body to keep the spirit of SHIELD alive," Fitz said.

Simmons shrugged, reluctantly agreeing. "I still don't like it. The insecurity. The not knowing."

Fitz grimaced, "I know." She would have every hour of her life planned out in advance if she could. "Do you have any eights?"

"Ah!" Simmons yelled pulling two cards out of her hand and throwing them at him. "I can't believe you're going to beat me! Again! How do you do it!?"

Fitz just smiled, plucking the two cards she had flung at him and pairing them with the two in his hand. He placed the four eights in a pile next to the popcorn bowl. "I can't believe you thought we needed resumes," he muttered, smiling.

"Oh, shut up. I've never been out of a job before. When normal people lose their jobs, they get their resumes together."

"Sure. Makes sense. But Jemma, when normal people lose their jobs, it's because they got fired. It's not because the company they work for is a spy organization that was secretly overthrown by Nazis… Do you have any ones?"

"Oh, bloody hell," Simmons grumbled, throwing a card from her hand toward him as hard as she could.

The pair played on for a bit more, Jemma finally coming up empty when Fitz asked for Jacks.

Sensing Simmons' frustration over the game and their circumstances starting to overtake her carefree buzz, Fitz decided to lighten the mood.

"Still…" He drew out thoughtfully. "If SHIELD no longer exists to the public, and we're working in secret, we're gonna have to come up with a cover story."

Simmons' eyes snapped up to his and the smile he had been aching for returned. "Yes! Of course, Fitz! You're right! It'll have to be something believable, something we can do together."

"Oh, we still work together, even in our cover stories?" Fitz asked, amused and a little touched.

"Don't be daft. If we didn't still work together, that would be unbelievable," Simmons dismissed, cramming more popcorn in her mouth. "Besides, I can keep up a cover story about my day-to-day job, but there's no way I can't mention working with you. I'd slip up on the first day."

Fitz nodded, "True. You're a terrible liar."

Simmons rolled her eyes, "Oh, please. As if you could lie to your mum when she asks you about me every time she calls." The biochemist scrunched up her face and dropped her voice, using a terrible Scottish accent, " 'How's Jemma? Oh, I don't know, Ma, I haven't seen her in ages.' " She dropped the accent and smiled broadly at Fitz's annoyed face. "She wouldn't believe you for a second."

"I don't sound like that."

"Well, now you know how it feels."

The pair grinned at each other, giddy from the drinks and happy to feel something comfortable and familiar. Jemma glanced at her cards, suddenly remembering it was her turn. "Any Kings?"

"Go fish," Fitz responded. Simmons rolled her eyes as the play switched to his turn. Fitz played out the rest of his hand, winning the game. He grabbed her glass and walked over to the small desk in the corner to get them both refills - topping Simmons' glass off with a heavy pour of water in order to reduce her headache tomorrow - while his partner grumbled and re-shuffled the deck of cards.

"Zoo keepers," he said suddenly, returning to the bed and handing Simmons her glass.

"Huh?"

"Zoo keepers. Our cover job," Fitz supplied, leaning back into the pillows.

"You just want to work with monkeys," Simmons instantly rejected.

"Surgeons."

"You can't stand the sight of blood."

"Okay, well if you're so bloody smart, you come up with an idea."

"FBI. Or CIA," Simmons suggested, picking up her laptop and the cards and placing them on the ground next to the bed. She laid back onto the pillow next to Fitz and the pair stared up at the ceiling together, still holding their glasses.

"Mmm… Maybe," Fitz said, "But we'd almost certainly be separated. I'd be designing weapons and you'd be off… Analyzing bioweapons, I suppose?" He squinted his eyes shut in thought. "It could work, but I don't like the idea to committing to yet another government organization that could potentially house dangerous military secrets. Plus, if you're going to work for the government, why not your own? MI6?"

"I suppose that's true."

"Give me another one," Fitz said, taking a sip and waiting.

"Um… Oh! NASA engineers!" Simmons exclaimed

"That… Would work for me, obviously, but what would you do?"

"Study the effects of space on the human body."

"And monkeys?" Fitz asked, eyes wide. He turned to see Simmons staring at him with a soft smile.

"And perhaps monkeys," she admitted.

"I like it. NASA it is."

Simmons nodded, then snuggled back into the pillow, closing her eyes. "Fitz, you know we're not actually working for any of these places, right?"

"I know," Fitz responded, shrugging. "I just want to be happy with our fake lives. I know it sounds silly, but…"

"Of course we'd be happy," Simmons said softly, her words drifting away. "We'd still have each other…"

Fitz smiled, reaching out to take her glass before she dropped it, and slipped out of the bed. His partner was just tipsy and she was being sweet. As much as he wished she meant it the way he wanted, she didn't think about him that way. He pulled the comforter over Simmons' body and walked over to his bed on the other side of the room.

"Night, Jemma," he said softly, slipping between the sheets and turning the light off.


	19. The Only Light in the Darkness - S1E19

"So do you think -" Fitz started.

"Romanov actually beat it? I don't know!" Simmons responded.

"I don't either! But there's no way she could, right?"

"She couldn't possibly!"

Fitzsimmons were in the small lab in the hidden base, talking excitedly back and forth as they poured over the design schematics of the lie detector they had just used earlier in the day.

"Do you think Koenig -" Fitz began again.

"No, I doubt it."

"That's what I thought. The way he was going on and on."

"He wouldn't have said all that if we knew you were the one who designed it."

" _We_ were the ones who designed it," Fitz corrected.

"I never thought we'd actually get to see it in use!" Simmons said excitedly.

"The questions were interesting," Fitz added, turning on the holo table and pulling up a 3D image of the eye scanner he had imbedded in the lie detector. "How do you think they landed on those?"

"I thought they were odd, too, but it was fairly simple to trace those back to their psychological root," Simmons agreed, peering over his shoulder as he zoomed in on one facet of the design, floating in mid-air in front of them. "Egg versus rock can trace back to the offense versus defense mindset. Are you just surviving or are you fighting?"

Fitz nodded, attention still on the design in front of him, his brain running through multiple scenarios at once on how to improve it now that he had seen it in action.

"And of course, the island question revealed what you relied upon for survival. If you desired a weapon, you rely upon yourself. If you desired food, you can easily adapt to circumstances, and so on."

Fitz hummed, keeping his attention forward, away from his partner. He had a feeling he knew what was coming next…

"What did you say for that, by the way?" Simmons asked.

Yep. He was right.

"Ah," he scratched behind his ear, awkwardly. He hadn't been thinking about ways to escape the island, he had been thinking about what he would want on a deserted island if he were to be stuck there forever. He briefly wondered what that meant about his own personality when he realized Simmons was still staring at him, waiting for an answer. What the hell, he may as well come clean, "I said you, actually."

"Oh, Fitz! Of course!" Simmons exclaimed, clapping her hands together. She looked so pleased, Fitz noticed with relief. Not embarrassed or awkward at all. "Of course if we were on an island alone we'd find a way to get off together."

Fitz flushed bright red. She had no idea how right she was.

"What did you say?" He asked quickly.

"Oh, I said the Tardis," she admitted with a sigh. "We're always discussing how having a Tardis would solve literally every problem we can think of, and it's just the first thing that popped into my mind." She looked disappointed, "I'm sorry. I didn't even think to say you - he asked 'what' is in the box, so I didn't even think about the possibility that I it could be a 'who' instead of a 'what.' "

Fitz shrugged, smiling "I don't care. Just as long as your first stop is to pick me up in that Tardis, I'm fine staying behind at home while you have your island holiday."

The scientists laughed. "One day, Dr. Fitz, I look forward to that happening. In a Tardis that you and Tony Stark designed together."

Fitz rolled his eyes, playing along. "Sure, Simmons. Me and Iron Man, just hanging out. Time travel. Not a problem at all."

The pair continued to banter and make notes on potential improvements for the lie detector.

After several moments of comfortable silence, Simmons sighed wistfully. "That was so sweet, today. And so sad," she added. "I guess I never realized how much Coulson had given up when he faked his death."

"I thought the same thing," Fitz said softly. He knew their leader's life revolved around SHIELD, but today was the first time it really hit him just how all-encompassing that statement really was.

"I can't imagine lying to someone I loved like that," Simmons continued, staring off into space. "Watch them grieve, but never be able to comfort them. It would just be heartbreaking."

Fitz just hummed in agreement as he continued to scribble notes. He was mildly surprised at the turn this conversation had taken. He knew Simmons liked her girly movies - he had lost count of the number of Nicholas Sparks movies she had dragged him to over the years - but usually the occasional chick flick or trashy romance novel was as far as her romantic side reached. She never let romance cloud her clear view of reality, even when she regularly dated in school. Fitz was far more the dreamy-eyed romantic of the two.

"We should set up a way to contact one another if we have to die," Simmons' voice suddenly broke into his thoughts.

Fitz looked up, quickly. "Wha?"

"Fake dies, I mean. Or suddenly disappears," Simmons continued, pulling up a fresh page on the note taking app on her tablet and starting to furiously type. "I will not put you through the agony of not knowing," she said resolutely.

"Not knowing what?" Fitz asked, still trying to catch up.

"If I'm actually gone, or if I'm faking it," Simmons explained, her voice getting annoyed. "Honestly, Fitz, keep up."

Fitz nodded, "I know what you meant, I just…" He trailed off, trying to understand how it was that Simmons had gone from discussing Coulson's girlfriend to the two of them in the blink of an eye, as though she viewed both partnerships as the same. "Never mind," he muttered, unwilling to jinx it.

"Okay, this is easy enough," Simmons said, leaning forward and tapping a few buttons to connect her tablet with his laptop so they could both look at the same thing.

"If ever either of us is in a situation where we have to disappear or fake our death or something like that, and cannot tell the other the truth before going into hiding, we communicate via message boards."

Fitz nodded, "That's probably easiest. Pretty hard to trace, unless someone knows exactly what they're looking for, and fairly innocent. Plus, it works in the movies."

"Exactly," Simmons smiled. She pulled up a message board they often read for Doctor Who spoilers. "Let's set up accounts in this message board. Using untraceable e-mail addresses, of course. We'll never post anything to the message board itself, but will update our profile with information if we need to."

Fitz nodded, quickly trying out user names. "Has to be something no one would ever connect to us."

"Right. So your user name can't involve monkeys, or science, or…"

"Or Scotland. Or you."

"Ha! I believe we just summed up Leo Fitz in 4 words," Simmons joked, smiling. "Not to say that I'm not an open book either."

"Jess21?" Fitz asked, peering at Simmons' screen.

"Jessica is one of the most common female names in the world, and 1921 is the year Peggy Carter was born."

"I thought you said nothing could connect us to SHIELD."

"I know, but… 21? I think 21 is okay, don't you? Just the number?"

Fitz thought for a moment, then nodded. "Okay, fine." He continued typing into his laptop for a second, then turned the screen to face her. "Say hello to Mike11."

Simmons stared at the screen, pursing her lips. "Mike for Michael, which is also a very common name, and eleven for…. Your favorite doctor!" She realized, snapping her fingers when she figured it out.

Fitz nodded and the pair high-fiver. "Nice to meet you, Michael," Simmons said.

"Likewise, Jessica."

"So. To review. If one of us ever disappears, they will update their user profile with some sort of information. So, if for example, you wake up one day and Coulson tells you I'm gone, or I've left," Simmons said, ignoring Fitz's instant paling at the thought, "You go on this website, find user name Jess21, and check out her profile information. Anything you need will be referenced in there. And same vice-versa."

Fitz nodded,"Got it. Anything we put in the profile will have to be cryptic, of course."

"Of course."

"So I assume we'll just use the code we developed second year that _still_ remains unbroken by the brightest minds in the spy world?"

"How right you are, Dr. Fitz!"

The pair smiled and returned their attention the devices in front of them. Simmons started to scour the web for a generic Shutterstock image she could use for her fake profile picture. "It's a shame Coulson couldn't have set up something like this for _his_ girlfriend."

Fitz stared at her in surprise. Was she even aware of how much she was implying that _they_ were together?

"But that'd be too complicated to develop with a civilian, I suppose," sh e continued, sighing. "I still don't know why he doesn't just tell her now."

"Sometimes knowing is worse," Fitz said quietly.

"What?"

"Sometimes knowing is worse than not knowing," he clarified, suddenly wishing he had never said anything. "Just… What happens if he says something because he can't take it anymore and she is so furious at him for saying anything, the wonderful relationship they once had is now ruined and clouded with the pain."

Simmons rolled her eyes, "Well, that's just absurd. It's better to know, no matter what. Besides, if they truly cared for one another, she'd understand. He should just tell her."

"Yeah," Fitz agreed. "Maybe he will one day."

"I hope so."


	20. Nothing Personal - S1E20

"I'm sleeping with you tonight."

"I'm sorry?!"

"Wha - oh! No! I didn't mean…" Fitz trails off, furiously rubbing his tired eyes. He's exhausted and heartbroken and frankly just doesn't have the brain power necessary to navigate the tricky nuances of keeping his interest in Simmons a secret. "We're staying together tonight. We're not getting separated again. Not tonight. Not after…." He trails off, giving up. "You know what I mean," he says quietly, sighing and shutting his eyes.

Simmons nods, and he senses it even though he can't see it. Of course she knows what he means.

The sun had long since set over the little pool behind the cheap motel the team had holed up in, yet no one had made a move to head inside. Simmons understood the reluctance. It was as though, if they moved inside, they would be confirming that their whole team was there and They were all in for the night. But they were not all there - they were missing Ward. Their teammate. Their friend, their mentor, and frequently their savior.

Simmons winced at the reminder, stealing a glance at Fitz's troubled face. His eyes were still squeezed shut, but she knew what was going on in his mind anyway. Ever since Ward had jumped out of the plane, Fitz had developed a sort of complex about not being able to save Simmons. She had repeatedly assured him that he was crazy and had done way more to save her than Ward, but she knew he still had doubts. He had grown increasingly paranoid about her security, making sure she was okay anytime they faced a threat, as though he were personally responsible for her safety. It had been cute at first, but once he started getting snarky toward any other man whom she trusted with her life - Agent Triplett in particular - she had asked him to reign it in.

So, here they were. The team in disarray, their trust broken. Skye worrying about Coulson, furious about Ward. Coulson worried about the team, frustrated about his judgement. Trip basically on standby, ready to go at a moment's notice. Simmons worrying about the safety of their friends. She cared so much for the team - Fitz always praised her for it, saying the team was lucky to have her and occasionally grumbling that they took advantage of her kindness. Fitz worrying about the team, angry about Ward, heartbroken that another person who was supposed to care about him had betrayed him. Upset that the one man he had begrudgingly trusted Simmons' life with was a liar and a killer. Worried about Simmons.

Fitz rolled his shoulders, trying to loosen them after hours of stress. It wasn't a new feeling. He was always worried about Simmons. From their first days at the Academy, he had worried she was smarter than him and nervous her scores would beat his. Once they started working together, he was worried she would discover how much smarter and well-adjusted she was and would leave him behind. He worried her boyfriends wouldn't treat her right, wouldn't see her value. He worried she would be out in the field alone and scared, so he joined the team - even if he couldn't protect her, he'd at least be with her. He worried she'd get hurt in the violence of the field. He worried she would die from an alien virus and he would have to call her parents and explain how he couldn't keep her safe. He was worried she'd discover his feelings for her and she wouldn't feel the same way, and everything would be ruined. He was worried she would leave if she found out, or she would get hurt or something would happen and they'd be apart. He was worried he'd be alone again. Like he was before her.

"Fitz?"

Simmons' tentative voice broke into his whirlwind of panicked thoughts, and he snapped his eyes open to see her staring at him in concern. She reached out and gently squeezed his arm.

"I think we need some rest."

Fitz nodded silently, standing and grabbing her hand with his before she could let go. He nodded at the others as they walked from the pool into the motel, frankly not caring what they thought about him clutching her hand like a lifeline. In the back of his mind, he reasoned that the team was too worked up to even notice. And if they did, they wouldn't be surprised or care. The only person who would have given him grief was Skye, and she was so far gone in her own head thinking about Ward that he probably could've started making out with Simmons in the middle of the pool and she wouldn't notice.

Suddenly realizing Simmons had led him inside one of the team's rooms, he quickly flushed and let go of her hand, as though she could somehow read his thoughts through their touch. He would't be surprised, really. She could read his thoughts most of the time.

"I don't know how Coulson intended to order sleeping arrangements, but I don't care," Simmons admitted, her voice tired and quiet. She left him standing alone in the room as she headed for the bathroom, grabbing the small overnight bag all agents had packed and ready to go in the case of an emergency. Fitz listened to the water turn on and the rustle of her brushing her teeth, then turned to pick up his own go-bag and walked toward the bed farthest from the door and window.

He frowned, not liking how the bed was so exposed. Dropping his bag on the other bed, Fitz tried to push the one he had chosen farther into the back wall, all the way into the corner. He smiled grimly when his effort was rewarded and the bed jerked a few inches towards the wall. He kept pushing, thankful for the motel's cheap furniture, until the bed was fully boxed into the far corner of the room.

Fitz stood, slightly out of breath, and observed his work. The other bed and its eventual occupants - he assumed Skye or May, if they ever actually slept that night - would block their bed from the door and window, while he would sleep on the side of their bed not framed by the wall, leaving Simmons in the corner and protected from all sides.

Hearing the water shut off, Fitz quickly dug a fresh shirt out of his bag and changed.

Simmons stepped out of the bathroom just as Fitz pulled the comforter down.

"Fitz?" She asked, confused at the room's new configuration.

"Just figured it was better this way. For safety," he says, catching his breath as he sees her for the first time. She was wearing a very faded grey t-shirt, almost so faded that the yellow print on the front couldn't be read. But he knew what it said by heart, as he had worn it nearly every other day for two years at the Academy. "That's my shirt!"

Simmons blushed, glancing down at the shirt in question, worn and practically swallowing her whole. A faded monkey grinned on the front, his face framed with the words "That's bananas!" Years ago at the Academy they had been working late hours on an experiment and she had spilled chemicals all over her blouse. Fitz had been wearing the t-shirt under a loose button-up, and immediately offered it to her. She had never returned it, and after some time, he had frankly forgotten about it.

"Um…" She started, tucking a stray hair behind her freshly-washed face. "Yes. It is." She said, hesitantly. "I just… Well, it's so soft and it's so comfortable, and it's my absolutely favorite thing to wear to sleep in, so I just kind of… Never gave it back." Her eyes grew wide as Fitz remained speechless. "Do you want it back? Oh, I'm so sorry, I just figured you would ask for it when you wanted it back. And you never did, and I love sleeping in it so much that I never volunteered…" Fitz still said nothing. "Oh, I'm so sorry, it was so selfish of me! Here, I'll find something else to sleep in - "

"No!" Fitz said suddenly, freezing Jemma as she rushed in a panic back to the bathroom, bag in hand. By the look on his face, he was also surprised by how loud his exclamation had come out. "I, ah - No, don't change, it's fine. I just… Was surprised is all."

Simmons smiled widely in relief, approaching the bed and tucking her bag neatly underneath it. "Oh, good. Because I really do love this shirt. And I always figured, we'll never be too far apart, so you can ask for it back whenever. I'm fairly certain half of the Harry Potter books in your collection are mine."

Fitz smiled in agreement, "The Doctor Who DVDs, too."

Sitting on the edge of the bed near the center of the room, Simmons started to brush her hair, then frowned as she studied Fitz's anxious expression. "I'm sensing that I'm sitting on the wrong bed?" She guessed.

Fitz just nodded silently, too uncomfortable to express with words what he desired. They had shared a bed a handful of times before, on school trips with classmates when they were fitting 8 people to a small room, or on vacations with friends when everyone fell into the first bed they saw, half unconscious from a night of drinking. But they had never deliberately planned to share a bed before.

Fitz would be forever grateful to Simmons for not saying anything, just nodding in understanding and lightly stepping from the other bed over to the one he had prepared. She perched on the edge of that bed, inches from a still-standing Fitz, and continued brushing her hair as it were the most common thing in the world.

She was beautiful, wearing the threadbare t-shirt and no makeup. Fitz just stared, unable to look away. He knew he was a lucky man, that Simmons trusted him so much that he was allowed to see her in these rare, unguarded moments. He hoped he never took them for granted.

"Well? Are you getting in bed?" Simmons asked, arching an eyebrow and staring up at him.

Fitz stared at her for half a second, desperately forcing his brain to focus on what was actually going on as opposed to what he wished Simmons was suggesting. "What?" He asked, failing to catch up.

Simmons stood and tucked her hairbrush in her bag, motioning to the other side of the bed. "Are you getting in now?"

"Oh!" Fitz finally understood. "Uh, no. That's your side."

"What? I'm always on this side!"

"Not tonight," Fitz said firmly, trying to keep a smile from spreading across his face at her casual reference to the fact that she had a usual side of the bed, established from thousands of nights watching TV or studying together.

"Oh?" Simmons challenged, crossing her arms.

"Jemma, just… Please," Fitz said quietly, hoping the desperation in his voice wasn't too obvious.

He watched as his partner narrowed her eyes at him, then took another look at the bed. Understanding dawned on her face as she took a step back, then glanced around the room and saw he had essentially created a fort around her.

"Oh, Fitz," she sighed quietly, smiling softly at him. Simmons leaned forward and pulled her partner into a tight hug. "Thank you," she whispered into his ear, kissing him on the cheek.

He didn't say anything, just dropped his head to rest on her shoulder and pulled her in tighter. The pair stood there for a long moment, finding strength and safety in one another.

Simmons finally broke the hug when they heard the quiet murmurs of Coulson and May's voices pass by the door. "We need rest," she said, repeating her words from earlier.

Simmons slipped into bed and Fitz followed, making sure she was comfortable and had all the blanket she needed before situating himself so his eyes were on the window.

After several minutes of staring out the window, Fitz's thoughts were starting to spiral into a Ward depression again. Taking a deep breath, the engineer forced himself to focus on something happier - like the woman laying next to him, curled up alongside his arm, mere inches from his touch. He listened carefully and, realizing Jemma's breathing patterns hadn't slowed, glanced down to see her staring into nothingness, clearly lost in her own thoughts as well. He couldn't have that.

"Jemma," he whispered playfully, nudging her lightly with his elbow.

"Hm?"

"Do you really wear my shirt to bed every night?" He asked teasingly.

"Yes," she responded instantly. "Unless I've done laundry and forgotten to put it in the dryer in time or something."

"Hmm!" He hummed, smiling.

Simmons giggled, snuggling past the inch between them until she was practically wrapped around Fitz's arm. She grabbed his hand again, loosely linking their fingers together under the covers.

Fitz froze in shock. He had imagined this scenario a hundred times, but never expected it to come true. And certainly never with her wearing his shirt, and never, ever with her being the one to initiate the snuggling. The events of today must haven shaken her much more than she was letting on.

A few more moments passed as Fitz adjusted to his completely shifted reality, and finally started to relax. His eyes were just starting to drift shut when he heard Simmons' voice, so quiet he felt her breath on his cheek more then heard the whisper.

"Fitz?"

He squeezed her hand in response.

"Promise you're not lying to me? You're not Hydra? Or… Just, we'll always be on the same side, right? I couldn't bear it if we had to fight each other." Simmons' voice was so small, so sad, Fitz almost broke into tears at the sound of it.

He immediately twisted and wrapped his arms tightly around his partner. "I'll never leave you, Jemma," he whispered fiercely into her hair, kissing the top of her head. "I'll be whatever you are. If you're SHIELD, I'm SHIELD. If you're Hydra, I am too… But I would really prefer you not do that to us," he said lightly, trying to cheer her up. He just felt her nod beneath his chin. "And if you want to leave…" He started, hesitating before finally just decided to go for it. "I'm leaving with you. You have me as long as you want me."

Simmons just squeezed his hand in response and Fitz could feel her breath starting to even out.

The pair remained like that for a while, Fitz wrapped protectively around Jemma as she fell asleep. The engineer soon followed her into sleep, staying awake only long enough to hear the sounds of the remnants of their fractured family enter the room.


	21. ragtag - S1E21

"Ward!" "Stop!" "You don't have to do this!" "Please, Ward!"

The duo's panicked screams echoed through the small escape pod as it creeped backwards, out of the plane. Their friend's betrayal was still overwhelming all of their thoughts, the pair ignoring the pod's slow reverse into mid-air.

"Ward! I can't believe you!" Fitz continued to scream, despair mixing with the pain in his voice. Ward was his friend, his teammate, his brother. Even if he had switched allegiances to Hydra, Fitz never dreamed that he would be capable of hurting his friends.

The pod shook, the weight starting to become uneven as it extended farther into the air. Fitz didn't notice, still pounding against the window and screaming at Ward's ever-shrinking face in the distance. "We're a family, Ward! How could-"

Simmons noticed it first, snapping herself out of panic and into reality. "Fitz! Fitz!"

Simmons' panicked shout cut him off, forcing him to turn around to face his partner. "We're about to fall, we have to strap in!" She yelled, grabbing his shoulders from behind and pulling him away from the window. "We have to strap -" Simmons repeated, shoving him into a booster seat, when the pod fell.

The pair was weightless for a moment before they slammed into the ceiling, the entire pod spiraling around them.

"Fitz!" Simmons screamed, reaching for him, eyes wide in terror. The engineer had one arm through the restraints of the seat when he was yanked away, and the sickening snap that echoed through the pod, combined with a sudden blinding pain, told him his arm had just been broken. But, he was still connected to the seat. Clenching his jaw through the excruciating pain, he extended his other arm out to Simmons, trying to pull her down to the seat next to him, but at that moment the gravity thrusters engaged and the pod's spinning came to a screeching halt.

"Simmons!" He yelled, watching hopelessly as his friend was flung to the other side of the pod, her head slamming into the wall with a loud thud. Her limp body slid down to the floor, leaving a small trail of blood on the wall.

"Simmons!" He screamed again, frantically untangling his useless arm from the restraints and rushing to her side. "Simmons!" Fitz kneeled next to his friend and felt for a pulse. He thought he detected one, but it could have just as easily been his own pulse, his adrenaline was so spiked. Hell, she may not even be alive anymore. But he wasn't willing to face that quite yet.

Quickly, he rose and ran to the window, forcing himself to push aside his fear and face reality. At the rate they were falling, the pod would hit the ocean in under 15 seconds. It would float once it got there, but the force of hitting the water would be deadly if they weren't properly strapped in.  
"C'mon, Jemma," Fitz said, hooking his arms under hers and pulling her up. The weight of his friend's body pulling down on his broken arm made him scream, but he breathed through the pain and tears as he pulled her farther up and into the nearest padded chair lining the wall.

"C'mon, c'mon, c'mon," he muttered, cursing himself when his fingers fluttered with pain and he fumbled buckling her seatbelt. "C'mon!" He yelled again in frustration, finally buckling Simmons' belt before sliding into the seat next to it and fitting his buckle in place just as the pod hit the water.

The force slammed his head against the back of the seat. In the half-second before he passed out, Fitz fleetingly thought how ironic it was that Simmons may have died from falling out of the Bus after all.

* * * * *

Fitz awoke with a start, a rush of pain and heartbreak and fear hitting him all at once. "Simmons!" He breathed immediately, his eyes flying open as he recalled the events leading to his knockout. He twisted in his seat to see the woman in question pressed tightly against the back of her seat, held close by her restraints. She still appeared unconscious, her head lolling to the side.

"Shite," Fitz muttered, reaching down to unbuckle his restraints before a lightning of pain shot through his arm, reminding him of his injury. "Dammit!" He cursed again, holding back tears as he carefully slipped his injured arm free. "Simmons?" He asked, shifting close to her and reaching out with his good arm, gently checking for a pulse, praying he would find it this time. He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut. There! There it was. Faint, but there.

"Oh, thank God," he whispered, leaning forward and pressing his forehand to hers. "Thank you, thank you, thank you," he whispered, tilting up to kiss her forehead. He was sure the image of being stuck at the bottom of the ocean floor with Simmons' dead body would haunt his nightmares for years.

Fitz carefully ran his good hand along her hairline, along the back of her head and neck, then delicately skimmed her collar bone and arms and winced at what he found. While strapping her in may have saved her life, his inspection showed that the tight restraints may have caused some damage themselves.

The scientist unlocked his partner's restraints and then, as carefully as he could with only one good arm, slid her to the floor and arranged her in such a way that wouldn't put any additional strain on her ribcage and neck, as those were the areas that caused him the most concern.

His task completed, Fitz rocked back on his heels and grimly smiled down at the sleeping woman, reaching out to brush the hair that had fallen across Simmons' face. They had survived. They had survived the worst, and come out on the other side. Together.

Satisfied that Simmons was as okay as she could be given their situation, he relaxed slightly, finally allowing other observations to flood his consciousness.

His ears were popping. Why were his ears popping? And why was it so dark? Was it night already? How long had he been out? It had been early afternoon when they fell, surely it hadn't been that long since...

Fitz's blood ran cold when he looked at the small window. It was dark and blue. Too dark and blue to be bobbing peacefully on the ocean's surface. He stood and rushed to the window, pressing his face as hard against the glass as he could to look out. They were underwater and sinking even deeper, if the bubbles passing by the window were any indication.

His popping ears suddenly made sense. He could just see the shine from the water's surface if he looked up, so he quickly estimated how far down they were - maybe 3 to 4 meters? He counted how far they seemed to drop in ten seconds, then did the math in his head, quickly calculating the rate at which they were sinking.

"Oh, no." He muttered, running towards the wall with the blinking transmission equipment. "No, no, no, no…" He kept muttering, good hand flying over every single piece of equipment he saw. Finding nothing that could help him operate the pod, he quickly searched the whole room. "No, no, no, NO, NO!" He shouted, praying that he would find some sort of control panel. Nothing.

"NO!" He shouted again, slamming his good arm against the wall in frustration. He ran back to the window and starting banging furiously against the glass. They were still close enough to the surface to swim up. "No!" He screamed louder, hitting the glass so hard he feared his hand might break, but he didn't care.

This was not happening to them. He was NOT going to let this happen to Simmons. Wait. Simmons. Why wasn't she waking up? He was making a ton of noise. He looked back and down onto the unconscious girl. She should have woken up by now, with all the noise he was making. She must have hit her head harder than he thought.

"Dammit!" Fitz yelled again, hitting his hand on the window one final time before sliding down the wall and collapsing on the floor. They were in a pod that was sinking to the bottom of the ocean, and he couldn't do anything except watch it happen. One of their closest friends had betrayed them and tried to kill them, and Simmons was potentially seriously hurt. It was too much. Fitz gazed at Simmons. What would she do? He was always so self-involved, focusing only on science solutions for their problems, and relying on the two of them to use their brains to solve any problem. But Simmons...

Fitz stood, eyes growing wide. Simmons loved being part of a larger team. She cared for their friends and she relied on them to care for her. She was always the first to ask for help, whereas he was always looking inward, failing to find the solution, and getting frustrated with his own insufficiencies. So he could ask for help!

He quickly ran back to the control panel, examining every instrument carefully. There. A transmitter. A way to signal the team. Gleefully, Fitz flicked it on and started yelling into the microphone. "Mayday, mayday!" When he was met with nothing in return, not even static, he frowned. "Mayd-" he started again, then stopped short when he saw the frayed wires sticking out of the back of the box.

Fitz didn't even need to inspect it for that long to know that the condition of the transmitter made it a non-viable option. "Dammit," he muttered. "Dammit, dammit, DAMMIT!" He yelled, punching the wall and cursing again when he yanked his hand back in pain. In his panic, he had forgotten about his arm injury.

Who designed this cursed pod? Quenching the instinctual urge to sketch some improvements, Fitz forced himself to focus. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears slipping out as he made himself to breathe deeply and avoid a panic attack. He had only had two or three in his entire life, and each time Simmons had been by his side, holding his hand as he got through it. Right now Simmons wasn't available, so he had to take care of himself. He had to take care of her.

Opening his eyes, Fitz stared at Simmons' still form, tears continuing to trail down his cheeks. He had to take care of himself so that he could be the hero she needed. Ward wasn't here to swoop in and save the day. At that errant thought, Fitz's mind suddenly went blank and he had the stray idea that this must be what it feels like to be one of his devices when it short circuits.

The fact that Ward – hero man Ward, whom Simmons had spent countless hours with, being rescued by, relying on for protection, and sacrificing her time and brilliance and love to in the name of friendship - had betrayed them and done such an ugly, terrible thing made Fitz see red with rage.

Not only were Ward's actions now going to result in their death, but he could have killed Simmons anytime he wanted to over the last year. And Fitz would probably have never been the wiser. The waves of pure hatred that rolled over him were so strong they forced Fitz to slide down and collapse next to Jemma on the floor. He stared at his partner, lightly running his hand over her neck and skull again, double-checking the severity of her injuries. He felt her pulse and tucked a stray hair behind her ear.

Ward wasn't an option. He couldn't rely on any special agents to save the day this time. He had to be the hero for Jemma. Looking at her peaceful face, Fitz let himself mourn for what could have been just for a moment more. He loved her. She was the most important thing in his life. He was so angry, SO angry at Ward for stealing her away from him. He leaned forward and kissed her forehead, lightly, then stood up and wiped the tears off his face, resolute. His priority was Simmons. He didn't think there was a way out of this that didn't end in certain death, but if there was a way out, he knew could figure it out together. Like they always did.

So all he could do right now is try to stop sucking up all the oxygen in the room, try to figure a way out of this, and just wait for her to wake up. Because between the two of them, they'd know what to do. And once they figured it out, he would do whatever, whatever it took to get Simmons out alive.

Fitz's left arm started shaking with the pain and the latent rage toward Ward still pulsing through his veins, and he knew it was time to address his injury. He scanned the room and found a small medical pack and got to work setting his arm. He was glad Simmons wasn't awake to see him screaming in pain during the process.

That unpleasant task done, he got to work fiddling with the defribulator he had found tucked with the supplies, just passing the time as he waited for Simmons to wake up.


	22. Shadows - S2E1

_Note: This is keeping with how we see Simmons presented in the beginning of Season 2. So, since the only way we see her is as Fitz's hallucinations, she appears here as an hallucination. So anytime you see "Simmons" know that I mean the hallucination. Real Simmons will appear in the chapters that reflect when we see her for real in the show. Make sense? Yay! Enjoy._

Simmons' voice came from behind Fitz as he stood near the back of one of the rooms on the base, arms crossed as he watched their - _his_ \- teammates share a meal together and joke around.

"Fitz, I know they seem different, but they're still your friends. They're just trying to do what's best for you and they're not sure what that entails quite yet. Go, be with them." Her encouraging words took on a soothing tone in his head, "It's important you socialize with people so that you can improve your speech, you know that."

Fitz snorted at her words.

"Oh yeah? Well, maybe I should go visit my Mum. You seem to be enjoying your family time, right? Tell me, how are your _parents_ ," Fitz spit out cruelly.

"Fitz," Jemma said softly, "You know that's not fair. I told you I went to see them -"

"Yeah, and it's pretty bloody obvious you're not there, now isn't it!" Fitz whisper-shouted, quickly spinning around and stalking out of the room before anyone could see the scientist talking to himself.

"We _talked_ about this," Jemma's voice rang in his head as he quickly headed to his room at the base and slammed the door behind him.

"No we didn't!" Fitz exclaimed, allowing himself to be louder now that they - _he_ \- was alone. " _We_ didn't talk about anything. I could barely talk at all when you up and deserted me - "

"I didn't _desert_ anyone - "

"I miss you, Jemma." Fitz said abruptly, his tone calm and honest. "I miss you. I _need_ you. I don't even care why you left. I just want to know where you are. Are you okay?"

Jemma just shrugged, "I know as much as you do."

Fitz nodded, collapsing on his bed, subconsciously rubbing his left hand to alleviate the dull ache that seemed to permanently reside there.

"You should do your - "

"Physical therapy, I know," Fitz cut her off, reaching over to grab one of the small stress balls Jemma had supplied him with before her departure and began to exercise his hand the way she had painstakingly showed him.

"I just… Coulson wouldn't send you somewhere, would he? Did you leave or were you sent somewhere? Did you want to leave me?"

"I wouldn't do that to you, Fitz, you know that."

"Well, obviously, I'm unsure as to that point, considering you're my subconscious and we're taking different sides in this argument."

Simmons sighed and rolled her eyes. "Ugh, Fitz!" She sighed, frustrated.

"Don't!" Fitz said suddenly. "You don't get to say that. Only _she_ gets to say that."

He looked at Jemma's sad eyes and dropped his gaze to his hand. "If she ever comes back, that is," he mumbled.

Jemma was silent and momentarily he felt her hand rest on his shoulder, where she had last hugged him in the pod.

"Think about it logically, Fitz," she said.

"You know I have. I called her mum and dad two weeks after she left, and they said she hadn't been home to visit them in _months_. So she's not home - she never went home. So that was just a flat-out lie."

"Why would I lie to you?"

"I don't know! You never used to! We didn't lie about anything!"

"So why would I start now?"

"Because…" Fitz said, haltingly. "Because…" He shrugged, eyes downcast as he forced himself to face the only logical conclusion. "Either you were ordered to - because you were sent off on a mission in which case you're probably in danger - or you wanted to. Because I messed everything up. Because of what I said."

Simmons sighed, "Or maybe she left because she thought it would somehow help _you_ , Fitz. Help you recover. Maybe she's researching a new recovery method and doesn't want to get your hopes up, or maybe she's - "

"The only thing that can help me get better is her being here."


	23. Heavy is the Head - S2E2

_Note: In this, Jemma is still Fitz's hallucination._

"How fascinating," Jemma's voice rang in his head.

"Hmm," Fitz hummed in detached agreement. He was hunched over his desk at the lab, intently studying the schematics for the cloaking technology and truly immersed in his work for the first time since his injury.

Fitz had long ago learned how to tune out Jemma's near-constant chatter in the lab. She was so excitable and eager to learn that each new scientific discovery enthralled her in a way that made her talk like a toddler on a sugar rush. Once they had gotten to the Bus, nearly every single project they worked on was a new discovery, so her voice had become a sort of soothing white noise to Fitz. Her babbling had never once bothered him, but rather the opposite - encouraged him to continue his work and comforted him that if someone as brilliant as Jemma Simmons could still find all of this fascinating with every fresh discovery, then he wasn't too dorky for feeling the same way.

Always enthusiastic, her murmurs were the one constant no matter where they worked - whether in her dorm room at the Academy, in a training facility in Sci-Ops, or in their cramped lab on the Bus. He never had a long adjustment period from lab-to-lab, or any sort of discomfort working with new or unfamiliar lab techs because the warm, white noise of Jemma's voice, accompanied by the occasional arm pat in excitement or shoulder squeeze of encouragement, let him know that he was safe.

He was home.

He had long ago learned the differences in Jemma's tones when she was speaking - he didn't really pay attention when she was happily talking to herself in the lab, and she didn't need him to. But her voice took on a slightly different tone according to her moods, so he would tune in whenever he heard her switch. When she needed his input or expertise on a project, her voice got a little higher, her accent a little clearer and pointed. His favorite was when she was about to say something she considered improper or against SHIELD's rules; her voice would go up very high and almost comically quiet. When she was frustrated and near her breaking point, her voice got low and faint, her accent muddled… This was the tone that had been the soundtrack to Fitz fading in and out of consciousness for nine days after the incident.

He heard Simmons' voice again, this time the tone a bit higher and going up at the end of her statement, like she asked a question.

"What?" Fitz asked, straightening up and turning to her work station.

She wasn't there.

Fitz stared at the empty space, frozen as the realization hit him right in the gut, the pain as fresh as the day Coulson had told him of her departure. She wasn't there. She hadn't been there for weeks and the evidence was unavoidable.

He flinched, seeing the stacks of Post-Its she usually arranged so carefully in ROY-G-BIV order in the corner of her desk scattered haphazardly in a heap. The notes that had been neatly printed in her precise handwriting and tacked to the wall over her computer were gone, pulled down by a lab tech who needed them for reference at a different work station.

She wasn't there. He didn't know where she was. He wondered briefly what she was saying, who was listening to her melodious words as she puzzled out a difficult problem or delighted in a hard-won solution. He wondered if she was saying anything at all. If he would ever hear her say anything again.

Forcing himself to snap out of that line of thinking, Fitz turned his attention back to the schematics in front of him.

What had he been working on? Something about the device that powered the cloaking?… Or was it the cloaking technology itself… Or….

Fitz stared at the tablet in front of him, anger starting to course through his veins. He slammed a fist on the table and shoved the tablet away before burying his head in his shaking hands. It was too quiet. He couldn't focus without some noise to tune out.

He needed music, voices, talking, _something_ to tune out so he could focus on the problem at hand.

He needed her.


	24. Making Friends&Influencing People - S2E3

After Ward's warning that the team was walking into a trap, Fitz rushed out of the basement room, dropping the tablet on the chair. He grabbed the satellite phone from the control room and made a hurried call to Coulson with the intel, stuttering over a nonsensical answer when the director asked how he managed to get the information.

The warning relayed, Fitz hung up and realized he had a decision to make. Either leave Ward downstairs in the dangerously low-oxygenated room for the unforeseeable future, until the next team member happened to visit him and rectify the situation. That could be in a few hours or a few days, since he didn't know the frequency with which Ward was visited.

Or he had to go down there and fix the oxygen level himself.

 _Or_ , a dark, desperate part of a his brain though, _he could go back down and reduce the amount of oxygen even more and end this once and for all._

Fitz remained seated in the control room next to the phone he had just hung up for a long time, just staring at the wall.

"Fitz, you can't do it. You know you can't," Jemma's voice said.

"Yes I can. Why can't I?" He asked back, stubborn and soft.

"Because that's not _you_ ," she insisted. Her voice was soft and soothing.

"Well maybe it should be," he said, still indignant.

"Oh, Fitz," Jemma sighed.

"He could've killed you!" He muttered angrily.

"But he didn't! Fitz, I'm fine! I should be the _least_ of your worries - "

"Well, that's _definitely_ not stopping anytime soon, now that I know you're involved with - "

"If anything, you should be _much_ angrier about your own injuries than any trauma I may have sustained - "

"Bloody Ward, could've killed you at any point on the Bus, could've dropped you instead of saving you, could've killed you in the pod, probably manipulating us _somehow_ to put your life in danger now - "

"And honestly, Fitz, what he has or hasn't done should affect your choice to be a good person and not turn into someone like him; I don't know why you're so mad about what he did to _me_ \- "

"You bloody know why!" Fitz shouted, slamming his fist on the metal table next to him, his voice echoing through the empty control room.

Simmons wasn't there.

Simmons wasn't there, he was talking to himself. She was in danger. He was talking to himself because of the injury Ward had caused. She was in danger because of Ward. Fitz had helped save her life at the bottom of the ocean and it was time to do it again. Even though she clearly didn't return his feelings, that didn't change the overwhelming need he felt to always protect her.

Standing and slowly pacing for a moment to allow himself to calm down and his body to stop shaking, Fitz grabbed the tablet and headed back down the stairs to Ward's cell. The man was sitting in the middle of the floor in the center of the room, arms up and elbows bent, with hands resting on his head. He was taking very slow, deep breaths with his face tilting skyward.

If he heard Fitz, he didn't react to the newcomer's presence, just continuing to steadily take long gulps of air, eyes closed.

Fitz stood as close to the cell's invisible barrier as possible, just staring forlornly at his former friend's face. He allowed himself a moment - just a brief moment - to mourn the lost of that friendship, that brotherhood that they had all felt for the man only a few short months previously.

He felt a hand lay on his right shoulder. "It's time, Fitz," Simmons' voice said softly.

Fitz reached up and placed his hand over hers, taking one final moment to let the fury and sadness course through him. Then he raised the tablet and pressed the button to return the cell to it's original oxygen level. He looked at the time on the top of the screen and saw it had barely been two minutes since he had left the room, made the call, and returned. He didn't know if she should feel relieved or disappointed that he hadn't caused Ward to have permanent brain damage. He really felt indifferent either way, which in the back of his mind scared him a little.

"Fitz!" A hoarse voice sounded from inside the cell.

Fitz reluctantly looked up to see Ward, face red as he quickly gulped in as much air as he could. "Thank you," he gasped between breaths.

Fitz said nothing as he watched Ward slowly gain his breath back. Ward stood and walked to the corner to collapse on his cot, bending over and bracing his elbows on his knees.

After a few more minutes of Ward sputtering, the former agent finally looked up to meet Fitz's eyes. The pair stared at one another, silent and stone-faced for a long moment before Fitz finally spoke, his tone flat and quiet.

"Simmons left. I'm fairly certain her life is in danger, and I don't - don't know if….." He squeezed his eyes shut and forced his brain to put the words together. "She may be dead right now. And I wouldn't know. And that's on you."

He watched Ward blink, his normally cool expression flashing with a look of surprise before settling back into his usual steady gaze.

"It's a miracle she survived you push - the push - when you… Underwater. Getting out of the pod. It's only because she's so brilliant she didn't die then."

Fitz took a deep breath to steady himself and avoid dwelling on what took place in the pod for too long.

"Hypoxia. My brain will probably never function the way it did before, and my hand's bloody useless. That's on you."

"May speaks even less now than before, if that's even possible. She's getting more ah, ah… Um… She's getting more _reckless_ , there it is, in the field. That's on you."

Ward just stared at him, unflinching. "Coulson will probably never be able to show his face in public again, everything thinks he's a tr-trai… Traitor, which is ironic, and a failure. Which are the complete opposite - ah, he is - he's not those things. That's on you."

Fitz took a minute step forward, getting so close to the barrier he could see it shimmer in front of his face. "Skye almost dies nearly every time she goes in the field and she doesn't care. And I can hear her crying every night before she goes to sleep," he said, tacking the slight exaggeration onto the end to ready hammer home his point.

Ward's carefully-composed facade finally broke and Fitz thought he could finally glimpse the man he used to know under the villain's exterior.

The scientist waited a moment, prepping the words in his mind before speaking, to ensure that he wouldn't stutter when he delivered the final blow. "You. Ruined. _Everything_."


	25. Face My Enemy - S2E4

"Is she hot?" Hunter's voice interrupted Fitz's tinkering in the lab.

"What!?" Fitz exclaimed, whirling around to see the Englishman sinking into the nearest chair.

"This girl everyone's always going on about when you're not around. Is she hot? What am I missing, mate? I need details," Hunter repeated, looking bored as he studied the healing scabs on his knuckles.

"Wha - Simmons? Are you? I, ah.. She's…" Fitz stuttered, his mind skidding to a halt. "No!"

"No?" Hunter asked, tone surprised. "Oh. Well, that's a disappointment. I just figured with all the fuss-"

"She's not _hot_ ," Fitz interrupted, his brain rushing the find the words he was searching for. "She's bea- ah, she's just… She's Simmons." He said finally, nodding as he figured that was the only way to really put it. He'd never really thought about Simmons that way. Yes, she was beautiful - stunning, really - but he had always had trouble talking to beautiful women. And once he'd gotten over the intimidation her brain presented, he had never been more at ease with someone than Simmons. Still… Fitz started to recall all the men he'd seen flirt with Simmons as though he hadn't even been standing there, and their reaction every time she said something charming. _Was_ Simmons "hot"?

"Okaaaay," Hunter drawled, clearly unconvinced, and shaking Fitz out of his thoughts. "Then what's so great about her, mate? Tell ya what, gimme your list of requirements and I'll hook you up! You know what they say," he said, leaning in to Fitz and winking, "The best way to get over someone is to get _under_ someone."

"'Kay, tha's just -" Fitz said sharply, dropping the heat sensor he had been working on, along with the screwdriver he had been using, onto the table and shoved them away from him. He turned and finally glared at Hunter, giving the rude Brit his full attention in hopes that he would finally go away.

"What? It's true!"

"I don't even _have_ a list of require-re-req…. Ah!" Fitz punched the table in frustration, "Things I need! I don't have a _list_ of something I look for in a girl, okay! I just liked Simmons is all! And she left, so that's that."

Hunter, completely unfazed by the scientist's exclamation, just leaned back and grinned, clasping his hands together. "No worries, mate! How bout this: Just tell me what you like about Simmons and I'll work from there."

Fitz just stared at the man's mischievous smile and thought for half a second how fun it would be to punch it away.

"Fitz," a soft female voice echoed behind him and he squeezed his eyes shut.

"Go away," he whispered to himself, willing Simmons' image out of his head. She wasn't there. And if she were, he _certainly_ wouldn't want her to hear this conversation.

"What?" Hunter asked.

"I wasn't talking to - it's not.. Um…" Fitz stuttered, eyes flying open as he tried to cover for himself. He didn't need the new guy thinking he was crazy, too. "Everything," he finally blurted.

Hunter just raised his eyebrows and waited.

"Everything," Fitz repeated. "Her brain - she's smart. _Really_ smart. Only person I've ever met who can keep up with me and isn't boring. She thinks of things I haven't thought of, which doesn't happen with anyone else."

"So she's smart and she challenges you," Hunter prompted.

Fitz shrugged, reluctantly agreeing.

"How smart is she?"

"Smarter than me. But only by a _little_!"

"How smart are you?" Hunter asked.

"Very."

"Quantify that for me, if you please."

"In the top 200 IQs ever recorded."

Hunter just stared at Fitz, eyes wide. "Ever?"

Fitz shrugged again, "Yeah." He didn't know why this was such a big deal. He wasn't typically very humble about his genius, but he had thought this was pretty common knowledge among the team by now. He supposed Hunter's rookie status allowed him the exception.

"And Simmons is on that list of 200 above you?"

"Just barely. One right above me. We're practically tied."

Hunter just continued staring at him, incredulous. "Huh," he finally said.

"So your thing - your whole thing - is that you really are a true genius. And only a handful of people that are even currently alive on the _planet_ are capable of keeping up with you."

"Well, only Simmons."

"What?"

"Of the 200 highest IQs ever recorded, Simmons and I are currently the only ones alive. Well, that's not true, there's a 3-year old in India right now with a suspected IQ high enough to place on the list, based on her parent's IQs and her cognitive skills, but she can't really properly communicate yet. The vast majority of people on the list died in the 50's and 60's, for some reason, and then in the early 2000's we lost some as well. But, yeah, since Simmons and I have met, we're the only ones on that list."

Hunter continued to stare at Fitz, expressionless. His staring lasted so long that the scientist began to shift uncomfortably in his seat.

"So. You're telling me that the only person currently alive on this earth who could have a full-blown conversation with you about science, your favorite thing in the world, is Jemma Simmons."

"Yeah," Fitz confirmed.

Hunter nodded, the tone of his voice shifting into slight sarcasm.

"And you said she's beautiful?"

"Yeah," Fitz agreed quickly. He supposed the cat was out of the bag that he liked Simmons now, no reason to hide it.

"And you saved her life recently?"

"She saved mine," Fitz was quick to correct. "Dragged me - I was complete dead weight - up 90 feet from the bottom of the ocean floor."

Hunter nodded again, "Of course she did. And you've known each other since you were mates in school? You were what, seventeen, eighteen?"

"Fifteen," Fitz corrected again. "Since we both skipped so many years of school, we were the youngest students at the Academy together."

"Sure," Hunter said, sighing in resignation. "And you've never had another girlfriend?"

"Well, Simmons was never my girlfriend," Fitz said quietly. "But no. No one else."

Hunter remained quiet, inspecting Fitz for a final long moment before standing suddenly. "Well, mate, don't know what to tell you," he said, slapping the scientist on the back as he started to walk away.

"What?" Fitz asked, confused.

"This Jemma girl. She sounds like one in a million," Hunter said. As he walked out of the room until he rounded the corner and was out of Fitz's hearing before he muttered under his breath, "Sounds bloody _impossible_ to replace her. Poor man."


	26. A Hen in the Wolf House - S2E5

"How've you been?"

Simmons' question hung in the air, unanswered.

Fitz stared at her, a million emotions flitting through his brain. Shocked she was actually there. Furious at her for leaving. Relieved she was alive. Scared she was just another hallucination. Nervous to talk to her. Hurt all over again with her rejection of his confession.

But the emotion that won out was, surprisingly, anger.

How had he been? How had he _been_?! Was she kidding him? He was on the brink of death for 9 days and had spent months clawing his way toward some semblance of the boy he had once been, his brain kicking and screaming and blocking him at every chance along the way, and she had up and disappeared on him.

He knew now that she had been on an undercover assignment. Though no one had told him, he had figured out she had asked for the assignment, leaving him in the dust, leaving him with a lie and a false promise to come back. She hadn't known she would ever come back, and now she was there, standing there and staring at him with an expression in her eyes he didn't recognize.

How could he not recognize it? He knew all of Simmons' expressions. And now she was here, with shorter hair and darker makeup and nicer clothes, staring at him in a way he couldn't understand.

Simmons was practically a stranger to him, and he had changed so much in the last few months, he knew he would be a stranger to her. It was all too much.

So he said the only thing he knew would shorten their conversation so he could get out of the situation as quickly as possible.

"Fine," Fitz lied.

Simmons smiled politely, but it didn't reach her eyes. She knew he was lying.

"Good," she said. "I, um, I just got back from…" She paused, realizing the dangerous territory she was about to enter, and changed directions. "They told me you were in the lab and I wanted to see if…" Simmons looked down, staring at her hands. "I missed being in the lab with you," she said quietly, quickly.

It's where she felt safest, Fitz realized. That much he still knew about her. He didn't know what terrors she had been through, but he knew she needed safety now. And to feel at home. And for her, that was the lab. As it always had been for him.

Maybe….

A wisp of hope appeared in Fitz's thoughts and he smiled tentatively at his erstwhile partner.

Maybe this could work. Maybe they could go back to working together in the lab and maybe he'd get over his feelings for her and they'd both be able to move on and work together, and things would go back to the way they had always been.

"I've been studying the face-mapping technology Agent 33 has been using," Fitz said, taking a tentative step forward. "Do - ah, um… Do you want to look at it?"

Simmons' face broke into a beaming smile, so wide and bright that it sent a wave of calm through Fitz. It had been so long since he had seen that smile. When he saw Simmons' eyes starting to well up, he briefly wondered how long it had been since she had smiled at all.

"Yes, Fitz. Please. Oh, I would like that very much."


	27. A Fractured House - S1E6

_Yes, I'm back! I'm uploading a TON of chapters all at once, so make sure you didn't miss any! PS - Sorry for the angst in these chapters, but that's pretty much what most of season 2 was. So... Brace yo'self._

The sound was faint. Very faint. So faint that her brain barely recognized the shuffle outside her bunk's door. But once she saw the door starting to be pulled outward, it was enough for her brain to process as a threat.

Immediately, Simmons tensed and grabbed the gun out of its hiding place under her pillow. She whirled around and raised the gun towards the door, assuming the firing stance May had drilled into her before her departure for her undercover role.

"Wha - Je - wha!" A panicked voice stuttered from her doorway. Fitz, eyes wide as he stared at her, crouched and raised his hands. He looked absolutely terrified, mouth hanging open as she aimed the gun in his direction.

"Oh, Fitz! Oh, I'm so sorry!" Simmons said, instantly dropping the gun onto her bed and running towards her erstwhile partner. She rested her hands on his shoulder and on his shaking wrist in hopes of calming him down, but her touch caused him to flinch and step back, shaking her hold off of his shoulder and staring at her hand as it quickly retreated.

"… Fitz?" Simmons asked quietly, worried. She knew they weren't on anywhere near the best of terms professionally or personally, but she had hoped that she could still be a comfort to him during a time of need.

Watching her longtime friend continue to shake and open and close his mouth, unable to find words, brought tears to her eyes. She crossed her arms over her chest to keep herself from reaching out again and bit her lips tightly, restraining herself from trying to provide him words.

She wasn't helpful. Nothing she said or did every helped him, and this was proof.

By the time Fitz finally started to slow his breathing and his shaking subsided, Simmons was in the middle of falling apart herself.

Tears were streaming down her face and her shoulders were shaking, the pressure of keeping in so many emotions threatening to push her over the edge.

Simmons knew the moment that Fitz had gotten himself under control and finally realized what was going on with her because his sharp gasp echoed through her bedroom. Instinctively knowing he was slowly approaching her - she guessed that their famous "psychic link" was pretty much the only thing between them that wasn't broken now - Simmons waved him off. She squeezed her arms in on herself and turned away, stepping towards her bed, her eyes squeezed tightly shut as she willed her tears away.

She could do this. She was Jemma Simmons, agent of SHIELD. Successful - well, mostly successful - undercover agent of Hydra. She was brilliant, she was a survivor, she wasn't the one who had been in a coma for nine bloody days and had brain damage, for heaven's sake!

Just the thought made her cry harder.

"… Jem?" Fitz's question was soft and desperate, the man clearly having no idea what was going on. It was also still coming from the direction of her door, so that was good. He hadn't followed her all the way into the room.

Simmons squeezed her eyes shut and counted down from three, taking a long, deep breath. She was on the verge of a complete breakdown - had been for a while, if she was honest with herself. Probably since Fitz' underwater confession. There was absolutely no way she could avoid the tears that were eventually going to come. So she told herself that she could cry - she could breakdown and sob and soak her pillow with tears - in three minutes. She just needed to put on a brave face for Fitz and then the moment he left, she could crumble.

She could be brave for Fitz. That's the one thing she could do.

Simmons took another shuddering breath and wiped her fingers under her eyes, likely doing nothing more than smearing the mascara that had melted down her cheeks, but the act made her straighten up a bit.

"I'm so-" She started, but her voice cracked and she cleared her throat, wiping her eyes again. "I'm sorry about that, Fitz," attempting to be cheerful. She winced. Apparently when she tried to sound cheerful during a brief hiatus from a crying binge, she just sounded creepy. "I really am," she attempted again, lowering the brightness of her voice a little in an effort to tone it down.

Fitz just stared at her from her doorway - which she noted he had at some point closed without her noticing. No doubt to protect her during this moment of weakness, to save her some embarrassment from the rest of the team. The thought just brought more tears to her eyes and she sniffed, forcing herself to stand up so straight her shoulders almost hurt.

The partners stared at each other for a long time in silence. Fitz had a conflicted expression she'd never seen on him before - he was at war with himself, instinctively wanting to reach out and comfort his best friend, but still so furious at her for a hundred different things, and frustrated with himself for a hundred more. Simmons was just doing her best to appear normal, protecting him from the all the horrible, ugly thoughts she was thinking about herself. Fitz getting better. That was the goal. She needed to focus on that. Anything else was selfish.

"Are…" Fitz started, then stopped, not sure what he wanted to say. Are you okay? What's wrong? Why are you here? Why are things different? Why did you leave? Why are you acting like nothing's wrong? I thought we were safe together - I thought we didn't hide from each other. Is it different now? Why didn't you stay? Do you love me too? What happened at Hydra? Are you okay? Not just now, but overall? Did something happen to you? Are you hurt? Why did you leave? Are you disappointed I'm not as smart as you anymore? Do you miss the old me? I'm so sorry he's gone. Why did you leave? Why did you leave? Why did you leave me? I'm worried. I'm scared. I'm angry. I don't know how to fix this.

"I came here to see if you were se-serious when you told Ward you'd kill him," he finally said. "Obv- obi-obvious… I guess I got my answer," he finally spits out, gesturing to the gun Simmons had thrown on the bed. "Is that something you got comfortable with at Hydra?"

Oh. Well. Looks like anger won out over everything. Fitz winced as he saw Simmons' horrified expression, instantly wishing he could take it back. Why did he say that? He was hurting her, obviously. It was killing her to see him like this, see him so broken. He was lashing out at her, he knew. He wanted her to feel the anger, the hurt that he had felt when she left.

Why did you leave?

"I'm sorry - " Simmons started again, but Fitz cut her off.

"For what?" He asked. "For almost killing me?" He looked at the gun again. "Or for something else you did? Or something you didn't do?"

Like love me back.

He wanted to say it. He needed to say it. But he didn't.

Simmons was shaking again, and Fitz felt a pang of hatred for himself in his gut. But his anger and heartbreak, building up for weeks, won out.

"Why. Did you leave?"

"Oh, Fitz," Simmons sighed through tears. "I'm so sorry."

Fitz's heart, barely whole as it was, took another hit to hear her say the familiar admonishment he'd gone so long without hearing. But at the same time, he felt lighter than he had since he woke up. That's all he had wanted to hear, this whole time.

"I should never have come back," she whispered.

Fitz froze.

"What?" He asked, blindsided.

"I make you worse, everyone sees that," Simmons said, motioning toward his hand that had starting shaking again. "Coulson was reporting to me weekly and said you'd made such amazing improvements. I… I'm sorry I returned and set you back in your recovery. I should have stayed away, I shouldn't have let Bobbi save me."

"What… The hell… Are you talking about?" Fitz asked, his voice slowly shifting from soft and concerned to angry.

Simmons heard the change but didn't look up, too far gone into her self-loathing to react.

"You would have died," he spit out. "If you had stayed in Hydra. You would have died." He mostly says it to keep arguing, but a part of him says it to satisfy his curiosity about how dangerous it had really gotten during her undercover mission.

She shrugged, still not meeting his eyes.

Her silent agreement pushed him over the edge from angry to furious, terrified at the thought of how close he had gotten to losing her. Suddenly, the feeling of plummeting - of seeing her lean out of the back of the plane all those months ago and taking his heart with her - overwhelmed him. He had tried to forget the feeling, tried to move on after she left for Hydra, but clearly his heart wouldn't let him.

"… But then you'd have to get better," Simmons sniffled quietly, still studying the ground intently.

"I - wha…" Fitz breathed, taking a step back. He grabbed his chest, suddenly feeling like he can't get enough oxygen into his lungs. He wondered, briefly, is this is what Ward felt like for that brief period he lowered his oxygen, then quickly dismissed the thought. He hopes it felt worse.

"I…" Fitz started again, squaring his shoulders and stepping forward, forcing himself into Simmons' space so that she had to look up at him. "I gave my last breath so that you could live," he said, clearer than any sentence he'd said since his accident. "And you're willing to di - to die - so that I can just heal faster?! Think about how, how… How dense that is, Jemma!" He sees her flinch at his increasingly raised voice, but he presses on, "That would absolutely destroy me."

Simmons flinched and whirled around, sobs tearing out of her as though a dam had suddenly been broken.

Fitz ran his good hand through his hair and laughed once - quickly, caustically. So there it is. He admitted he loved her in the pod under the ocean and she didn't return the feelings and abandoned him. Then she's come back and is reminded of his feelings - and she still won't face him.

Well, now he knows. He should let Hunter set him up with someone. Or take Skye up on her offer to train him. Or get rip-roaring drunk.

That final option felt like the easiest one, so Fitz turned to leave. He had his hand on the doorknob, about to open it and head straight to the lab to make the strongest alcohol he'd ever produced.

"Don't you see, Fitz?" Simmons' voice, barely a whisper, stopped him. "I failed you. I failed you then and I'm failing you now and I keep failing you a hundred times over. You saved my life and what do I do? I stay here and you don't heal. I leave and you hate me. I come back, I make it worse."

Fitz's heart constricted as he slowly turned. He really didn't know how he felt about Simmons anymore. He knows a love like he had for her is hard to quit, and he knows that seeing her walk into the lab after coming back from Hydra was one of the most beautiful sights he'd ever seen. Despite his injury, he wasn't stupid. He knew he would probably never stop caring for her. But his anger and confusion and heartbreak at her leaving just felt like another betrayal in his life. His father, Ward… Now Simmons, the one person he thought his heart would always be safe with.

But hearing her say such awful, awful things about herself when he knew they were such blatant lies… He wanted to say something. Tell her how wrong she was. Tell her that he was starting to understand why she left. Tell her that seeing her wrecked like this, in shambles because she obviously hadn't wanted to leave him… He was starting to understand. Could one day forgive.

But he just wasn't strong enough to tell her that yet, the anger still burning on top of all of his other emotions. He needed more time.

Unaware of Fitz's mental gymnastics, Simmons laughed bitterly. "You are so angry at me for risking my life with Hydra, but the great irony is that you came as close to dying as any of us ever have… And it was for me. And now we're back at our old argument. You can die for me, but I can't die for you. That doesn't seem fair, does it Fitz?" She asked wearily.

"You know why that is," Fitz said, direct and succinct. No reason to beat around the bush now.

Simmons just sighed and nodded, tears starting to fall again. Of course she knew. He loved her. He hadn't said the words I love you, but he'd gotten pretty close and then sacrificed his life to save her own. But she wasn't sure how she felt about him. She knew she cared, she knew she cared so deeply. Seeing him in that coma for 9 days had been the hardest thing she'd ever experienced. But she'd never really let herself think about him that way - so being forcibly thrown into that situation had thrown her usually logical, organized brain into a loop.

She'd gone from being Fitz's best friend to finding out he loved her, watching him try to die for her, watching him hover near death for 9 days, then discovering he had severe brain damage… Then finding out that her presence hurt him more than helped.

She hadn't let herself process anything. She'd taken a page from Skye's book. Throw yourself into the first project you see and put all your focus on that, so you can't break down.

But Jemma wasn't dumb. She knew where this was going to end, had always known. Well, at least since that holiday she took with her family only a year after meeting Fitz. She had seen that Scottish cottage and just known, with a deep contentment she couldn't explain, that one day she would get married and live with her new lab partner Fitz in a cottage just like that one. They would never be apart. She was going to love Fitz until the day she died. But she just wasn't quite ready yet to leave the safety of their companionship, their friendship.

And then he almost died without marrying her or moving into that cottage, and her brain short-circuited like one of his devices.

"What do we do, Fitz?" Simmons sniffled. "I can't go back and change what I did. Neither can you."

"I wouldn't want to," he said, quickly.

"So…" Simmons started, trying to keep the hope out of her voice. "Do you even _want_ to go back? To the way it was - we were - before?"

 _Before you confessed your love and I ran away?_

"I want to go back to a world where we can speak to each other without crying or yelling or shaking," Fitz said solemnly.

The pair stared at each other for another moment, thoughts and memories simultaneously running through their minds. After a while Fitz sighed and gave Simmons a wan smile before turning and leaving.

Simmons waited until she heard his footsteps fade around the end of the hallway before burying her face in a pillow and sobbing until she fell asleep, exhausted.


	28. The Writing on the Wall - S2E7

_I'm uploading a TON of new chapters all at once, so make sure you didn't miss any!_

Sterilize, organize, label, secure. Simmons walked into the lab where they had used the memory machine, reciting the list of procedures she'd followed since she started handling real chemicals at the Academy.

If she and Fitz were still speaking, he'd joke that she'd probably followed the procedures since she played with Play-Doh as a toddler, Simmons thought wryly.

Breathing in a staggering breath in an effort to prevent another disastrous breakdown like she'd had the other night, Simmons forced herself to clear her mind of all thoughts of her lab partner. Former lab partner? Future boyfriend? Former best friend? Future stranger?

"Focus, Jemma," the biochemist whispered to herself, starting to gather some of the lab supplies discarded around the lab. Sterilize, organize, label, secure. Sterilize, organize, label-

"Jemma?" A soft, familiar voice called to her from the other side of the room.

Simmons whirled around, a hand on her heart. "Oh, Fitz! You startled me!" She said, spotting Fitz sitting in the corner, hunched over in a chair next to the machine. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you were in here!" She apologized, blushing furiously as she quickly ran over all of her actions since walking in the room. Fortunately, she didn't think she had said anything about her inner turmoil out loud.

"Yeah, I, uh…" Fitz stuttered, stuffing his hands in his pocket. Simmons had noticed that while she was gone he had developed a habit of tugging on his shoulder with one hand. But once she commented on it, he seemed to stick his hands in his pockets, or on his hips, or even crossed in front of him, whenever she was around. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you," he said, quietly. "I know you're para…. On high alert. Since your time with… Um. Since you-"

"You didn't want me to pull a gun on you again, because I'm hyper vigilant since I left to be undercover with Hydra," Simmons said bluntly. No use beating around the bush.

"Um…." Fitz said, staring at her in surprise. "Yeah." He finally agreed. His hands had escaped from their pockets and he was massaging his bad hand unconsciously. Even in the middle of the overwhelming awkwardness, Simmons was satisfied to see that he had taken her massage instructions seriously.

"I was just coming to clean the room," Simmons explained, suddenly feeling like she was somehow intruding. What an odd feeling to have around Fitz. She hated it. "I'm sorry to bother you. You know how I can be..."

"A place for everything and everything in it's place," Fitz said softly, parroting back something Simmons had said to him dozens of times during their years at the Academy and Sci-Ops. The engineer smiled wistfully, the meaning of the phrase in Simmons' life remaining unspoken.

She only felt the need to obsessively organize when a seemingly unsolvable problem was weighing on her mind.

 _He_ was the unsolvable problem.

"Yes," Simmons agreed quietly. For a moment they simply looked at each other, reflecting on the situation, the light from the panel on the memory machine casting an odd blue light on half of Fitz's face.

Wait. The light from the panel. On the memory machine...

Simmons suddenly snapped out of her reverie to take in Fitz's stance and surroundings for the first time. He was wedged into the corner of a room, sitting directly in front of the instrument panel, which was lit and, judging by the flashing text, awaiting an input command. There was a 3-ring binder bursting with papers sitting open on Fitz's lap.

And Fitz sure was massaging that hand an awful lot, which she'd started to learn was a bit of a nervous tick for him.

"... Fitz?" Simmons asked softly, taking a step closer to get a better look. "What are you doing in here?"

Fitz's eyes suddenly grew wide, flashing with guilt as he glanced down at the notebook and then back up to her. "I... Ah..." He stuttered, seemingly unable to come up with a response.

"Were you..." Simmons continued walking until she was close enough to see the screen, which was still flashing. ERASE DATE?

She sucked in a sharp breath. "Fitz!" She said quickly, admonishment and fear coming out in the word.

"I'm not gonna do it, Je- Simmons," Fitz said quietly, turning his attention to the screen she was staring transfixed at. "I thought about it, 'sall. I'm not gonna lie about that. But I'm... I... Don't worry about me."

"But... What would you... What..." Simmons stumbled, not sure how to phrase the millions of heartbreaking questions she had ripping through her brain right now. But, as usual these last few weeks, she didn't know what to say to Fitz. The thought brought tears to her eyes, and she hurriedly wiped them away. She couldn't melt into a puddle of emotions every time she was around him.

"Because it's hard, Jemma," he said even quieter, gaze still fixed on the screen. Simmons sucked in another quick breath, surprised to hear him call her Jemma again.

"It's so _hard_ , knowing what I used to be, co- compar - compared to what I am.. _Now_."

Simmons looked at him, his gaze still not reaching hers. "But you're getting so much better!" She insisted, quietly, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

He froze before she could reach him, so she retracted the arm quickly. "I know," he said. "But it's not just my... My _injury_. It's everything. The hypoxia. Ward. Hydra... The pod... _You_."

Fitz finally looked up at her. "Us," he nearly whispered.

Her tears threatened to spill again, so Simmons quickly sniffled and wiped her eyes. "But... You would have erased everything before? All of... _All_ of it?" She asked quietly. _All of us?_

Fitz shook his head, quickly. "No. Never. That realization made me stop." He said. "Still. Sometimes I think it would be easier."

Simmons nodded, "I suppose that's true," she said, trying to shift the tone to a purely science, hypothetical conversation, like so many they'd had before. "It brings to mind the old debate; what's better: to have and lose or never to have had before?"

Fitz hummed in agreement. "What would you erase? From your memory?"

"Your coma," Simmons said instantly, before she'd even given herself a moment to think.

Fitz looked up at her quickly, "Really?"

Now it was Simmons' turn to avoid his gaze, straightening up and lifting the notebook from his hands. "Really," she said clearly and firmly, leaving no room for a follow-up question.

"What would you say to a nice cuppa?" She asked, turning off the machine and helping Fitz up.

"Weren't you going to clean up the lab?" Fitz asked, taking her comments for what they were - a closing of the conversation. He stood and stretched, running his hands over his face.

"That can wait," Simmons said, waiting at the door.

Fitz glanced from her to the messy lab table as he approached the door. "You don't have to rush me out of here," he said quietly when he reached her. "I'm not going to do it, Jemma."

Simmons pressed her lips together and studied the ground. "Promise?" She whispered, knowing she had no right to ask him to promise anything.

"Promise," she heard him say. She nodded and waited until he passed her before closing the door behind them.


	29. The Things We Bury S2E8

_I uploaded a TON of chapters all at once today, so double-check that you haven't missed any!_

"Skye... Do you have a moment?"

Simmons' tentative question came as she lingered near the door of the common room where Skye was perched on the couch, eating popcorn and playing video games.

"Uh... Yeah," Skye said, still focused on the screen in front of her, frantically pounding away at the controller. "Just... Yeah... Hold up... High... Score!" She finally said, dropping the controller on the couch and throwing her fists up in victory.

"Suck it, Trip! He's gonna be so pissed when he sees I beat his top score," She said, grinning wildly and turning to look at Simmons. "Okay, sorry about that. What's up?"

Simmons smiled cautiously, coming to join Skye on the couch. She was so used to tiptoeing around Fitz and convinced that Hunter and Mac already didn't like her that it was a relief to be around someone it was still easy to talk to.

"I was wondering..." Simmons started, then trailed off as she tried to think of a way to rephrase what she was thinking. "I know that this is a painful topic, Skye," she began. "But I was hoping you could talk to me for a little bit about Ward and Hydra. Specifically, if you could ask me some questions about Hydra and SHIELD."

At this, she pulled out a small instrument from her pocket and set it on the cushion next to her.

"Um... Simmons, what's going on?" Skye asked, confused as the scientist began unwrapping cords from around the instrument and Velcroing them on her fingertips.

"Oh this is just a mini lie detector Fitz and I -" Simmons paused momentarily, staring at the instrument and collecting her thoughts, "That we built back at the Academy. Has a 99.7% success rate."

Skye's eyebrows rose. "Impressive. You didn't wanna whip this thing out at any point over the last year?" She asked.

"Well, it's only something I thought of recently. When Fitz was... Sleeping," Simmons said, stumbling over the words again, "And I spent some time with his mother, she brought me some of the projects he had been storing at his home. She thought it would be a good way to..." Simmons cut herself off, pulling the Velcro straps even tighter and turning on the machine, which shone a bright red light from the top and emitted a very soft hum. "A good remembrance, should he not wake up," she finally spit out, then focused on Skye.

"Okay, I'm ready," she said, smiling the fake smile Skye had seen far too often in the past few weeks. The light on the machine turned green.

"Oh, look, see! I'm telling the truth! I really am ready!" She said.

"Simmons. Why am I asking you questions about Hydra?" Skye asked, still confused.

"Oh! Of course. Sorry," Simmons said, flustered. Ordinarily, this would've been the kind of thing she did with Fitz, whom she was used to never having to explain herself around. "Well, it's crossed my mind that I may have been brainwashed during my time at Hydra. So, if it's not too painful, I'd like you to ask me questions about touchy Hydra subjects while i'm hooked up to this lie detector. This will hopefully assuage all of my fears and wIe can move on."

"Huh," Skye said, taking in the girl in front of her. Her friend, whom she had watched barely hold herself together for weeks. She took in the dark circles under Simmons' eyes, the makeup that got heavier and heavier every day to hide how pale she'd become. And she had been watching the way she interacted her Fitz and it broke her heart. It was time to fix that. "Well, you don't need a lie detector, let's just get Fitz. Yo, Fitz!" Skye yelled at the engineer who had just passed the door to the common room.

"Oh no, that's not necessary," Simmons said quickly as the pair heard Fitz's footsteps stop in the hallway. "I'm sure he's very busy with the - with, um.."

"Yeah, tell that to your blinking red light, Simmons," Skye said, staring pointedly at the lie detector that was furiously flashing red.

Simmons blushed deeply as Fitz entered the room. She ripped the wires off her fingertips.

"Yeah?" Their friend asked, sticking his hands in his pockets and hovering several feet away from the couch, carefully avoiding Simmons' gaze.

"Hey, so I need you to do that psychic link thing you two do and tell me if Simmons has been brainwashed," Skye said with no preamble.

Fitz's head instantly shot to Simmons sitting on the couch, "What?!"

"Oh, Fitz, it's fine," Simmons hurried to explain, nervously tucking her hair behind her ears. "If you have something else you need to be doing, it's not a big deal, I'm sure you're very busy right now, it's just a little request I made of Skye."

Fitz's expression didn't change as he remained fixed on Simmons' face, studying it intently.

"Yeah, so Simmons said Hydra sometimes brainwashes people and she wants to make sure it didn't happen to her," Skye barreled on, ignoring Simmons staring daggers at her.

She was going to get the two nerds to talk to each other, no matter what.

"You were brainwashed?" Fitz says, even louder than before, finally addressing Simmons.

"No, no, no, of course not!" Simmons said, then shrunk in on herself when she saw Skye's cocked eyebrow. "At least... I don't think so," she admitted quietly.

"So you don't know," Fitz said.

"Well, technically speaking, I wouldn't be able to, right?"

The former partners stared at each other for a moment before Fitz grumbled in frustration and pulled a chair over from the nearby table. He sat down near the two girls and crossed his arms. "I swear, Simmons..."

"It's not like I actively _tried_ to get brainwashed!" She defended herself, while a tiny part of her was selfishly pleased to see his reaction. He was acting just as frustrated with her propensity at getting herself in trouble as he always had - maybe there still was hope for them after all.

"Okay, so this is a just-in-case type situation," Skye said. "Simmons, strap yourself back in." Simmons obeyed, putting the lie detector back on. "And Fitz, you can tell me if she's lying, too."

Fitz's gaze dropped back tot he floor, "How should I know? She's gotten really good at lying. Especially to..." He trailed off, seeming to think twice what he was saying. His hands were furiously massaging one another.

"Oh, Fitz," Simmons whispered, tearing up.

Skye's eyes widened as she stared back and forth between the two best friends. "I... Uh..." She started, then stopped, not sure what to say.

"I have to go," Fitz muttered, standing quickly and hurrying out of the room.

"What was-" Skye started, but Simmons was already sniffing and finishing her work to connect the wires on the lie detector test.

"Oh, that's just..." She started, then halted in her thoughts and process, not sure what to say. "We're..." She trailed off again, staring at the machine in her hand. "It's been difficult. Since... It's been difficult." She said again.

Taking a final breath, she strapped on the wires and looked at Skye again. "Okay, do your worst."

Skye, clearly still confused about what exactly she had just witnessed, took a deep breath. "Okay. This should be fun... What is the mission of Hydra?"

An hour of questions and two hours of stress-relieving video games later, the two girls parted to their bunks, satisfied that Simmons' brain had remained her own during her time at Hydra.

Skye plopped down on her bed, kicking off her shoes and pulling her laptop onto her lap. Before she could even get settled in, a soft knock sounded on Skye's bunk door. "Come in!"

Fitz lightly pushed the door and stepped in, quietly shutting the door behind them, checking if anyone was in the hall seeing him enter

"I just wanted to see... I, ah... She. Is... Is she okay?" He asked, staring at his shoes.

"What?" Skye asked, unable to understand him.

"Simmons," Fitz said firmly, looking up. "Is she okay. She's not... She's not br- brainwashed, right?" He asked, looking at Skye with such desperate hope in his eyes.

"Nope," Skye said softly, smiling. "She's still our Simmons."

Fitz smiled softly and nodded once, satisfied. He pulled his cardigan tighter around him. "Good."

He turned to leave, but Skye stopped him with a quick, "Hey, Fitz?"

The engineer paused, looking back.

"I'm certain she's not brainwashed, but coming back from that place - being surrounded by that evil for so long - has been hard on her." Skye said. "I'm sure she'd love to spend more time with a friendly face," she suggested.

Fitz looked at Skye for a long moment before finally saying, "Thank you for being there for her." With that, he left Skye's room as quietly as he had come.


	30. Ye Who Enter Here - S2E9

_Note: I uploaded a lot of chapters at once, so make sure you didn't miss one!_

She looked so grown up. How had she aged so quickly?

Fitz was quick to restructure the question in his head, she hadn't aged, she just looked... Well, stronger. More confident. More mature.

She looked like a woman who knew what hell was and how to survive it.

He didn't know much about makeup - other than what he'd seen Simmons apply back at the Academy before a date, or at Sci-Ops before a big event, but he never really paid attention to it. If they were still in that place, still had that easy intimacy between then that he'd grown to rely on for so many years, or if he were ever again given the opportunity to watch her get ready for her day, he knows he'd study her every move.

Why were her eyebrows darker? They made her look harsh and serious. Did she mean to do that? Was it fashionable right now? He never paid attention to other women for long enough to notice. How long did it take her to curl her hair now that it was short? He remembers her fussing over her long locks for what felt like ages back in school, but he can't imagine her fussing over something like that now.

She'd grown up and moved on. She had bigger issues to worry about then back when they were in school.

Fitz glanced down at his cardigan, worrying the fabric between his fingers. It felt like she'd grown up and left him behind. While she was off battling Hydra in her solo apartment - alone for the first significant length of time since they'd first met - he'd remain stuck in the past.

Regressed, really, if he thought about it. He had to relearn basic skills after his injury. Had to deal with the sudden return of the feelings that he wasn't smart enough or good enough - self doubts placed there by his father that had all but disappeared after years of working side by side with Jemma.

He had changed physically a little, he reasoned. He occasionally went without shaving because his hands were more trouble than they were worth, giving him a slight stubble he was proud of. It had taken him ages to be able to grow facial hair - something he had been self conscious of and Jemma had noticed, constantly insulting the beards their classmates were growing and talking about how unattractive it looked. He knew it was all for his benefit - he'd seen her reactions to Agent Triplett.

After Jemma had left, Skye had made a big deal about giving him a "grown up" haircut. She had pulled him out of his confused, heartbroken depression, sat him down in a chair she pulled into the bathroom, and given him a beer while she trimmed away. He just sat there and watched the hair fall away, recalling the conversation he had overheard her having with Trip at his bedside just a few days before when they thought he was asleep.

"I don't know how to help him. Physically, he's getting better. But with her gone?.. I guess we just treat it like a bad breakup," she had sighed.

"I didn't think they were together?" Trip had asked, surprised.

"They weren't. Well, not the way that the rest of us think about being together. But... That's still a piece of his heart out there, separate from him."

Trip hummed as Fitz had tried hard not to flinch at the description.

"What do you do after a breakup?" She asked.

Trip laughed, "Oh, c'mon girl! You know I've never been dumped!"

The pair laughed before seeming to remember Fitz and quickly quieted.

After a moment, Skye spoke again, "Worst breakup I ever had, I went out and cut my hair. Like chopped it all off. I went from crazy long hair - about halfway down my back - to a pixie cut. Bleached it, too."

Trip started laughing again, "Oh, no."

"Oh, yes. And it was just as awful as you're thinking," Skye said wryly. "Fortunately, the short length meant my natural color grew in pretty quickly, but I had to wait for years to get my hair back to this length."

After that, Coulson had stuck his head in the room and called the agents out, leaving Fitz to lay there, pondering the conversation he had just overheard.

So when Skye finished doing something near the nape of his neck with his some clippers and made a big deal about how "smokin'" he looked now, he just smiled and thanked her.

They had all tried to help him, and in some ways they actually had. Not in the way they expected to - Hunter's attempts to set him up with someone and Skye's efforts to give him a fresh start hadn't done anything to heal to hurt in his heart after Simmons left. But it did help toughen him up a little and make him realize that he can't just be a nerd who stays safely tucked away in his lab, destined to be half of a whole forever.

If he were honest, one of the things that hurt the most about her leaving him wasn't that she left. It's that she didn't take him with her..

Which he logically knew was insane - he was in no place to do anything after his injury, and he was finally admitting to himself just how long and drawn out his recovery process had been. And her being gone had, admittedly, probably helped.

But the fact that she had gone off BY HERSELF to do something he knew she had to find terrifying... He was so proud of her, but selfishly, equal parts angry and heartbroken that she had been able to do it without him.

He'd always known Simmons was brilliant, better than all of them, would out-survive the entire lot of the team and SHIELD even, if it came to it. It's one of the reasons he loved her.

But he was a selfish man, and a part of him hated that flying solo came so easy to her. When she was gone he had HALLUCINATIONS of her, for heaven's sake, and she barely even batted an eye...

But she had come back. And she hadn't reacted to his physical appearance at all, but why would she. He knew she didn't feel the same way about him as he felt about her, so it makes sense that no matter what he looked like, she would still think of him as her friend. Hard stop. Nothing more.

Fitz gazed at Simmons as she struggled to zip up the hazmat suit in preparation of entering the caves.

Even after all the changes and time and distance between them... She was still the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

"Fitz, can you help me attach this helmet?"

Her question snapped him out of his revere as he quickly set his equipment down and rushed forward to help her.

"You haven't even begun to get dressed!" Simmons exclaimed, eyes wide as she took him in.

"Calm down, Simmons, I don't think I'm going to breathe any fatal gases in the next 30 seconds," he snapped back at her, his hands flawlessly attaching her helmet, muscle memory assisting him with what should have been a difficult task.

Simmons' eyes grew wide as she stared at him and a wide smile started spreading across her face. It was the first time he had annoyingly but lovingly snapped at her in months, a brief reminder of the way they used to be.

"Oh, Fitz!" She admonished lightly, playing her part. "Oh, could you hand me the-"

"Yeah, yeah," Fitz responded, fetching the tool he knew Simmons, eyes trained on her toolbox as she packed, hand outstretched expectantly, would need right now.

Maybe she didn't need him like he needed her. But it was nice to be there for her anyway.


	31. What They Become - S2E10

"You know, for the amount of blood you two are taking from me every day, I should at least get some cookies and a juice box afterwards," Skye joked, rolling down her sleeves after Simmons pressed down a bandaid over her veins.

The biochemist merely stood and gave Skye a tight smile before leaving the room with a fresh vial of blood in her hands.

Fitz remained behind, crossing his arms over his chest and watching his colleague walk away.

"I'm worried about Simmons," he finally said, turning his attention to Skye as she lay in the bed in quarantine.

"Why? What's wrong?" Skye asked, eyes flying back to hall their friend had just left. "Was she hurt back at the earthqu - back at the cave?" She asked, trying to skip over the topic that had her absolutely terrified.

"No," Fitz said absentmindedly. "I covered her."

Skye made an impressed noise, but Fitz continued, "It's because of Trip."

"Oh," Skye said, the teasing completely dropping from her tone. "Yeah. We all miss him."

"Yeah," Fitz said, his voice getting a little harder as he tried to explain, "But I mean it's really hard on her. More than the rest of us."

"What are you talking about?" Skye asked, confused. "Simmons will be fine," she dismissed, reaching around the table next to her bed for her tablet.

"She cared about him," Fitz bursts out, and he feels instantly guilty for the unbidden twinge of jealousy he feels mentioning it. "Of course she'd -"

"Yeah, cared about him in that he was a good flirt," Skye bluntly interrupted. She started ticking names off her fingers. "Hunter's fun but he's got lady issues, Ward turned into a psycho killer, Mac is a giant, terrifying teddy bear who is beautiful to look at but so not interested in flirting with anyone on this base. Not to mention, I caught _you_ stuttering around Simmons a few times _before_ your injury, so obviously you weren't stellar on that front."

"Hey!" Fitz complained, but only weakly. They both knew she was right.

"Don't get me wrong, Trip was a genuinely wonderful guy and this is a huge loss for all of us," Skye rushed to clarify. "He was a good, loyal friend, and simply a fun flirt. He wasn't someone Simmons was actually interested in," she said carefully, staring at Fitz like he was missing something.

"Okaaay," Fitz said slowly, not understanding what Skye was trying to accomplish with the entire conversation.

"I just… She's taking it so hard, I don't know how to help her… I've never seen her so distraught," Fitz continued. "Just the other day she switched up two lab samples and forgot to properly close the venting door while testing something. I know it may not seem like much, but for Simmons, it's the worst it's ever been."

"Maybe she's just stressed like the rest of us. I know everyone's worried about me," Skye said. No use sugar coating it.

"No, that would be different. She's just very unfocused - I know you haven't known her as long as I have, so you'll have to trust me," Fitz barreled on. "This is the most upset I've ever seen her. Well, except for when you were shot, of course. That was pretty bad too, actually. She -"

"What?" Skye interrupted, looking up sharply from her tablet. "You think right now is the 'worst' Simmons has ever been?"

"Well, yeah…" Fitz said, confused. He would obviously be an expert at this, he'd known Simmons the longest and seen her through some hard times.

"And you, expert in all things Simmons, knows that she is the most upset she's ever been in her life because she switched up some lab samples?" Skye asked to confirm.

Fitz flinched at the jab, but nodded. Obviously. "Well, again, your injury was bad, but she was mostly terrified of losing you. And we've had a few... Conversations... Since her return that she got pretty upset during. And well, I suppose maybe something could have happened _before_ we ever met that made her more upset, but she would've told me about it. But since we've met..." He trailed off, not sure where he was going with this.

Skye stared at him for another moment, an unreadable expression on her face, before bursting into loud guffaws. She started laughing so loud her shoulders were shaking in time with the alarms going off outside the quarantine chamber, reacting to her change in heart rate.

"Hey, did you hear that?" Skye yelled at May who ducked in to see why the alarms were sounding.

May raised an eyebrow, waiting.

"Fitzy here," Skye motioned to Fitz, who had crossed his arms uncomfortably across his chest at this point, "Thinks that Simmons is currently the most upset she has never been."

May turned her razor focus to Fitz and stared him down, cocking an eyebrow.

"Yeah, really," Skye answered her unsaid question. "Jemma Simmons has never been more distraught and sad than she is right now."

May stared at Fitz for a moment longer, making the engineer squirm, before finally rolling her eyes and walking away.

"What was that abo-" Fitz started.

"I hate to break it to you, Fitz," Skye interrupted. "But you, in all your years of expertise, know absolutely nothing about how Jemma Simmons behaves when she is seriously upset."

"Wha-"

"Because you were unconscious for all of it."

Fitz snapped his mouth shut, staring at Skye as realization hit him. Oh. _Oh_. He had never actually been told what Simmons had been doing during those nine days he was unconscious after his injury. By the time his brain had unscrambled itself enough to really start asking questions of its own instead of responding to commands or parroting Simmons' words, the biochemist had been out the door, on her way to Hydra.

He had always just assumed she had spent most of the nine days resenting his declaration of love, counting down the hours until she could bolt.

But now that he thought about it, finally free of the haze of anger that Simmons' departure had cast over all of his memories of that time, he realized that he hadn't given a fair consideration to his partner's actions during his coma.

He assumed now that she had probably spent most of it fussing over him, laughing lightly as he pictured her bossing around all the doctors on the base.

"Why are you laughing?" Skye asked, her voice laced with... Was that disgust? Admonishment? Fitz snapped out of his imaginings and looked down at her, propped up in the bed.

"Just picturing Simmons bossing everyone around while I was asleep. She's always smarter than everyone, that one. You know she would be hovering -"

"Hovering!?" Skye's voice was incredulous. "Bossing people around while you were _sleeping?_ "

Fitz's eyes grew wide. Why was Skye so angry. "Yes..."

"Fitz, _we didn't think you would ever wake up_. She thought you were dying. For nine days, she thought she was watching you slowly die in front of her, and there was nothing she could do to help you."

Fitz's face paled. Oh. He hadn't realized...

"She literally didn't leave your side. The whole time. She didn't eat, she didn't sleep, she just sobbed at your bedside, holding your hand. The doctors told her not to touch your bad hand, but she would ignore them and massage it every chance she got so it wouldn't be cramped when you woke up. After a while they let her, since she had more degrees than the rest of them put together anyway."

Fitz flexed his left hand, remembering how he had gone nearly a full week after he woke up before anyone realized there was a problem with his hand. He had been able to focus solely on his mental progression during that time before getting bogged down with the emotions of realizing he had a whole other, much more physical problem to deal with.

Simmons had done that for him.

Suddenly, he remembered a meeting he had had with doctors a few days before Simmons left, when they had told him that he was weeks behind schedule with his wrist exercises and he had tried to haltingly explain it was because it didn't always hurt. Simmons' guilt-stricken expression during that appointment suddnely made more sense.

"What else did she - um..." He started, hesitant to ask but desperate to know more.

"Did you know she had scoliosis as a child? Had surgery and everything."

Fitz nodded.

"Of course you did. Well, none of us did. But we found out after she remained hunched over your bed for four days straight, screwing up her back so badly the doctors tried to put her in a back brace so she couldn't slouch."

Fitz winced. He knew how painful that could get for her, having witnessed her fall asleep at her desk at the academy more than once and wake up in pain so severe it would bring tears to her eyes.

"Your heart stopped twice and I swear Simmons died both times," Skye continued, pressing onwards. She suddenly felt the need to impress upon Fitz the severity of all that he had missed.

His mouth went dry. He knew his heart had stopped twice, but it had been described to him as very brief blips, a result of his body taking a long time to adjust to the breathing tube.

"She didn't stop crying for four days, Fitz. For _four days_. Eventually, she cried herself out of tears. None of us really had much time to worry about you - no offense, the doctors were doing their jobs so all we could do was wait. But for her... Coulson would just sit with her and hold her when she cried. I offered to take her shopping or at least watch movies. Trip at one point brought a bottle of whiskey and tried to get her to drink, hoping she would drink too much and pass out and actually sleep for more than a few hours... but she never took a sip. She didn't want to be muddled when you woke up."

Fitz just stared at Skye, slowly sinking into a nearby chair. The Simmons she was describing was one he had never seen.

"She had to be medicated, Fitz," Skye said softly, finally taking pity on him. "Just so we could give her an IV and get some fluids in her. At one point I thought Coulson was going to restrain her. We took turns watching her on the security cameras in your room to make sure she didn't pass out - which she did, _multiple_ times."

"She talked to you like you were awake. The whole time, she talked to you. It was crazy. She would hold one of your hands, then scribble out math equations on a notepad with another. She was always running the same calculations, over and over, about how much oxygen had been left in that pod, and second-guessing your decision to... Well, whatever it is you two did down there that kept you both alive."

Fitz sucked in an unsteady breath at this and shot his eyes up at Skye, "She never told you?"

"What happened down there? No. She refuses to discuss it. All she said is that you're a hero. She said that over and over, if anyone asked. But that's all she said."

FItz simply nodded, lost in thought.

"What did happen down there, Fitz?" Skye asked gently.

"I kept her alive," He said, parroting her words back to her.

Skye's gaze remained unwavering as she looked at her friend. "You didn't expect to live, did you?" She said quietly.

Fitz shrugged, uncomfortable. "I had broken my arm. She was the stronger swimmer," he said, as though that explained anything.

Skye merely nodded. After a moment, she moved on, much to Fitz's relief. "Do you remember your mom coming to visit you?"

Fitz scrunched up his forehead, wracking his brain. "Vaguely. I know she was there for a few days after I woke up," he said. "It's hard to remember specifics from that time," he admitted.

Skye hummed. "Ddi you know Simmons was the one who called her?"

"Not Coulson?" Fitz asked, surprised.

"Simmons wouldn't let him. Insisted it be her. On day five, she kicked us all of out your room when she made the call. I think she held it together enough so she didn't give your poor mom a heart attack, but... " She trailed off, then looked at Fitz seriously. "How well did Simmons know your mom before all this?"

"Oh, they get on great," Fitz said enthusiastically. He'd always loved how much Jemma and his mom got along. "We always spend Christmas together and every summer break during school we would stay at one another's houses, depending on the type of project we were working on. They text and e-mail, and Ma sends her birthday gifts every year. Yeah, she loves loves Simmons."

Skye just smiled sadly, "So it runs in the family, huh?"

Before Fitz could respond, she continued. "When your mom got here, they just collapsed in each other's arms for a few hours. But your mom collected herself pretty quickly and worked on putting Simmons back together. Forced her into the shower - thank _God_ for that, by the way, she smelled like ocean the whole freaking time you were out - and would take her on walks outside the base, forcing her to get some sunlight. Wouldn't let her back inside to see you until she'd drunk two full water bottles and a Gatorade and eaten a protein bar."

"After two days of this, Simmons was finally calm enough to actually eat. We took turns feeding her and following her to the bathroom to make sure the food stayed down. She and your mom just cried and exchanged stories and pictures and held your hand and cried some more."

"A few days later, you woke up. And _that's_ when Simmons went all bossy doctor on everyone else, taking over your recovery."

"She thinks she hurt my recovery by taking over," Fitz said quietly.

Skye shrugged, "Maybe, looking back on it. You did rely on her a lot. But honestly, I can't blame her - when you woke up you kept looking at her with these pleading puppy dog eyes that even made May cry I few times. She knew your capabilities better than anyone. At the time, it made sense for her to take control."

Fitz took a deep breath and sat back, rubbing his eyes clear of the few tears that had collected during Skye's story. Well, now he knew. And he had a whole new slew of nightmares and guilty feelings to process. Along with, selfishly, a small flare of hope. Hope that maybe, _maybe_ , Simmons cared for him as much as he cared for her. He just wished she hadn't had to go through the agony of those nine days.

They heard Simmons' quick footsteps coming back down the hall, causing the pair to break out of their reflection.

"I know you hate that she left you and you were alone, but remember that she was alone first, Fitz. For nine days, she thought you had left her forever. Try to remember that instead of getting so mad at her for leaving," Skye said quietly, ending right before Simmons entered the room.

"Okay," the biochemist said brightly, smiling wide, and brandishing a small medical hammer. "How about we test those reflexes again?"

"Ohh, come _on_ , Simmons! Not again!" Skye groaned.


	32. Aftershocks - S2E11

"Ow!"

"I - oh, dammit. Sorry!"

Fitz winced apologetically at Skye as he finally inserted the needle into the prominent vein inside her elbow on the fourth try. The test tube quickly filled with her blood and he withdrew the needle just as gracefully as he had inserted it - causing the girl to hiss in pain.

"Sorry!" He said again.

Skye waved off his attempts to dab the area with a cotton ball and grabbed a Band-Aid to apply herself. She rubbed the area lightly, wincing, before folding her elbow closed and holding it up slightly.

"So, not to be rude Fitz, but where is Simmons? Because as much as I love being your pin cushion, for some reason I prefer her method of getting the needle in the right place the first time."

Fitz sucked in a breath as he watched Skye wipe off a line of blood that had trickled down her arm during his shaky withdrawal of the needle.

"Yeah, uh," he stuttered, turning away and focusing on his smart watch, flipping through the text app until Skye was done. "I suspect her lack of discomfort around needles and blood probably helps her with that particular skill."

He turned around and collapsed in a chair near his friend's bed. He felt as tired as she looked. "Her two medical degrees probably don't hurt, either."

Skye hummed in acknowledgement, dropping her arm to the bed and sinking back into her pillows.

The pair sat in weary, companionable silence for a moment.

"I'm _exhausted_ ," Skye finally mumbled.

"Well, that's understandable, considering your body just went through terragenesis. I wonder if-" Fitz started, but Skye cut him off.

"You can just say you're exhausted too, you know."

"Oh. Well, yeah. I'm exhausted too."

Another moment passed.

"I can't believe Tripp's gone," Skye said softly.

Fitz just hummed an agreement. This is why the team never took breaks. If they had more than 5 minutes to sit down and think about what had happened to them, they'd never get up again. He checked his watch again.

"So?" Skye prompted after another long silence. "Where is she?"

"Hmm?" Fitz asked, her voice forcing him out of his thoughts and back to the present. "What?"

"Where's Simmons?" Skye asked, repeating her question from earlier.

"Oh." Fitz said flatly, sinking even deeper into his chair. "Simmons."

"Yeah... Simmons? You know, pretty, brunette, short, _very_ British?" Skye prompted, looking at her friend, who seemed to be intensely studying the back of his bad hand. She watched him clench and unclench the fist for a while, flipping his watch to check it every few seconds, before he responded.

" _Simmons_ ," Fitz finally said, the word coming out harsh, "Is an actual, certified genius. Did you know that? She has an IQ of 195."

Skye just stared at him. She had no idea what that meant, but now she was curious, "What's yours?"

"194," Fitz said, not looking up from his hand. "I had a fever when we took the exam, so both Simmons and I maintain that I would've gotten at least a 195 if I hadn't felt so ill."

"What was Einstein's IQ?" Skye interrupted again.

"Depends on the source, the most generally recognized answer is somewhere between 170 and 190," Fitz said, detached.

"Oh." Skye said, eyes widening. It was one thing to hear gossip that her friends were smarter than Einstein. It was another thing entirely to have it confirmed so casually. She shook herself out of her shock to focus on the matter at hand, "So why is Simmons' IQ relevant to her current whereabouts?"

"It's _important_ ," Fitz said, anger starting to tinge his words, "Because I just wanted to make sure you knew how much of a genius Simmons is before I tell you that she is an absolute _idiot_. A complete, absolute, stupid idiot. She's back in those damn underground caves right now."

"What!?" Skye asked, sitting up quickly. "Why!? There's no way that's safe, the -"

"The structural integrity of the caves is _extremely_ compromised because of the quake? Yeah, yeah it is. It is _so_ compromised, in fact, that someone with an IQ of 194 and two degrees in BLOODY ENGINEERING deemed it a hazardous zone and told the director of SHIELD not to allow anyone in there for fear that it would collapse completely on top of our entire team."

Fitz's hand stopped flexing open and closed when he curled both of his hands tightly into fists. Skye could see the knuckles turn white.

"And," Fitz continued, still staring down at his blank watch face and seeming to talk to himself, "The quake knocked out all communication we had set up, so the team is blind in there and can't reach anyone outside in case of an emergency. So we just have to wait until they're back to hear from them... Not to mention the minor fact that, oh by the way, if the cave does collapse all around them, then they'll be plummeted into a bloody _haunted devil city_ that caused Mac to go completely evil."

Ending his tired, Fitz slammed a fist down on the armrest of his chair before standing up quickly. He started to pace around the room, massaging his hand.

"I'm sure she'll be fi-" Skye started, only to be cut off again.

"You know, it's funny. It really is," Fitz said to himself, checking his watch again.. "She got me to join this team by convincing me that we'd only go into the field when absolutely necessary, and we'd never take unnecessary risks. And then when I risk my life - _for her_ , I may add - she basically puts me on bloody suicide watch. But running headfirst into Hydra's headquarters? Jumping into a collapsing cave with actual demons living inside of it? Sure, no problem for her!"

"Fitz?" Skye asked softly, forcing his attention to her. "How long ago were they supposed to get back?"

"Thirty seven minutes," he bit out, looking at his watch again, his fingers flying as he checked every messaging app. Nothing.

"This would be a lot easier if Coulson would just agree to letting me put trackers on everyone," he muttered.

"Whoa! Hold up! You want to add _trackers_ to everyone? Doesn't that seem like a huge invasion of privacy? Don't-"

"Oh, come off it, Skye. You know as well as I do that with the level of danger we face every day, something like this makes absolute sense. And the trackers would be completely undetectable except to me or Coulson, who would know how to access them. And it's not like _we_ would ever invade anyone's privacy."

"Yeah, but -" Skye paused before jumping into a rant as she saw Fitz check his watch again. He heart ached for her friend, so she switched tactics and employed a technique she'd watched Simmons subtly use to calm Fitz time and time again. "That actually sounds fascinating, Fitz. Tell me more about how that would work."

The worry in Fitz's eyes eased some as a smile flashed across his face, "Oh, okay, so Simmons was talking about injectables but honestly I don't think that's so necessary. I was just thinking of something simple - like the bracelet you wore last year - that could measure heart rate and provide GPS. It will be very similar to those fitness bracelets that are so popular right now-"

"And how are we feeling today, Skye?" Simmons' voice floated through the room as she entered the doorway, running a hand through her mussed hair. She rubbed at the red line along her forehead, left there from the Hazmat mask.

Simmons bit back a smile as she watched Fitz react to Simmons' voice. He stood and whirled around, his mouth dropping open slightly. He reached out towards her, then pulled his arm in and stuffed his hands in his pockets as he seemed to remember himself.

The biochemist pretended not to notice, puttering around Skye, but Skye could see the small smile she hid at Fitz's reaction.

"How did it go, then? In the - in the caves?" Fitz asked hesitantly, nervously scratching behind his ear.

"Oh, fine. Ran into a little trouble on the way back when we ran out of fuel - we had to wait for someone to come fill us up."

Fitz let out a relieved breath, then headed towards the door. "Well, I'm going to go see if Mac needs any help," he said quickly.

Skye rolled her eyes. When would these two work it out?


	33. Who You Really Are - S2E12

It was times like these that she really missed the Bus. Right now, all she wanted to do was get a cuppa and sit in her favorite chair - the overstuffed green easy chair she and Fitz had found at a thrift store their second year at the academy and had shared ever since, literally dragging it onto the Bus when Coulson was distracted.

If she were on the Bus right now she'd be sitting in that chair, lightly blowing on a hot cup of tea, watching the world fly by beneath them. She'd relax at the scenery and let her mind wander, slowly letting herself calm down as she logically sorted through whatever was worrying her.

But this wasn't the Bus. And she didn't have the chair - which was probably still on the Bus, now that she thought about it.

Just one more piece of her relationship with Fitz that had been cast aside, never to be revisited.

So Simmons did the only thing she could to escape while at the base - she made a cup of tea, studiously avoiding Fitz's concerned looks in the kitchen as he of course had long ago learned how she behaved when she was working something over in her mind, and excused herself to the laundry room.

It wasn't glamorous by any means, but it was the one place on the base she had found rarely got any use on an early morning, and it had a window that overlooked the small lake behind the base.

Softly closing the door behind her, Simmons slid on top of one of the quiet washers and took a sip of her tea. The sun had just begun to rise and she admired it in silence, taking another sip. Frowning at the chill in the air - they didn't bother adding climate control to this room, making it another reason it was so rarely in use - Simmons set the tea down so she could wrap the cardigan she wore tighter around her body.

Now. To the matter at hand. Time to reason out why she had felt the need to escape the team.

She was upset because Fitz had lied to her. She knew he was lying the moment she found his data on the tablet. He'd never lied to her before. And now she knew that he had been lying to protect Skye.

Simmons didn't know what upset her more: the lie or the fact that he had done it to protect Skye.

Hunter had casually mentioned walking in on the pair arguing in secret and Simmons had been surprised how painful hearing that had been.

So it was time to identify the problem. Was it the fact that she and Fitz now lied to one another? Or the fact that he was keeping secrets with Skye?

Skye, the woman whom he had obviously had a crush on just last year. Simmons hadn't really been bothered by his infatuation at the time, but now she found that it bothered her quite a bit.

The idea of Fitz liking Skye really, _really_ bothered her.

Why was this? Simmons contemplated, taking another sip of tea. The obvious answer was that she liked Fitz, but she wanted to be completely certain, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that her feelings were real. Because if she ever acted on them and it turns out she had been mistaken…

She could never do that to Fitz.

So, did she fancy Fitz, or was she simply jealous of seeing him give another woman attention? Admittedly, she was the only woman he'd ever shown attention to, the only one he'd ever had secrets with, the only one he'd ever broken rules to protect. Simmons had long been comfortable in the knowledge that she was Fitz's number one priority - but hearing his tearful confession on the bottom of the Atlantic had added another layer to that security.

She was the one he loved. She was the one he would die for. She was the most important person in his life besides his mother.

Was she simply angry that their time apart had shattered those truths? Uncomfortable seeing him now have a shared camaraderie with someone other than herself? Angry that her status in his life may have dropped a few points?

She couldn't blame him. She had been gone for a long time, and it's not like things had been great between them since her return.

Or… Was she just jealous because she liked Fitz and it pained her to see him do something that may indicate he had gotten over her?

Was it time for her to finally admit that she liked Fitz back and could even see herself falling completely in love with him?

As Simmons continued to ponder this, a soft knock at the door started her out of her reverie.

"Jem - Simmons?" Fitz's hesitant voice called as he quietly opened the door.

The biochemist turned to look at her erstwhile best friend, standing hesitantly in the door. He was wearing a navy blue cardigan with a gray stripe along the outside. She always liked it when he wore cardigans, but this one was her favorite - it brought out the blue in his eyes.

Fitz was twisting his hands together, studying a place on the ground slightly in front of her. He was so cute when he was nervous.

Oh. Well, that answered that question. Skye was nowhere in sight and Simmons definitely was thinking more-than-friendly things about Fitz.

"I just came to see if you - Jemma, what's wrong?"

Fitz's tone, abruptly changing from hesitant to concerned, forced her to break out of her reverie.

"Hmm?" She asked, confused. Why was he looking at her like that?

"You're cr-crying."

"Am I?" Simmons asked, surprised. She reached up and touched her cheek, surprised when her fingertips came back wet. "Oh!"

"So… Can I… Is there anything…" Fitz said, not quite sure how to proceed. "I know you were upset this morning," he started slowly.

"Oh, Fitz," Simmons sighed, smiling through her tears.

Fitz's hands froze and his eyes shot up, boring into hers.

Now it was Simmons' turn to be surprised. "What -"

"I… Ah… It's just been a long time, that's all. Since you said that. I didn't know if I'd ever hear that again," he said quietly.

The thought made Simmons smile even more, but brought more tears to her eyes. They were getting better. It was going to get better.

Still, there was one thing that was bothering her…

"Skye doesn't get exasperated at you the way I do?" She teased, instantly hating herself the moment it left her lips. What was that. What did that even mean. Why in the world would she mention…

Fitz laughing interrupted her thoughts. "Oh, Skye gets angry with me, alright. I expect most people with a lower intelligence than ours can find conversations with us frustrating. But it never bothers me. She's just like Coulson and May - families fight but they forgive each other, you know?" He just shrugged, unaware of the burden he had just lifted off of Simmons' shoulders. "Only bothers me when you're upset."

Simmons sniffed, wiping her tears as she smiled at the man before her.

"Why, Fitz?" She asked quietly.

The engineer paused for a long time, wringing his hands together, then placed them on his hips and stared at Simmons, seeming to have come to a decision. "You know why, Simmons," he said quietly.

Oh. "Oh, Fitz," she sighed again, this time sliding off the washer and pulling him in for a hug.

The move obviously startled her friend, as he stood motionless for a moment before putting his arms around her.

The pair stood there for a long while, enjoying the moment and reveling in the comfort that came from their familiar closeness.

Finally Simmons broke the hug, pulling back with another sniff as she wiped her eyes. "Thank you, Fitz."

He just smiled and nodded before turning and walking down the hall. He had absolutely no idea what had just happened, and he still didn't know why Simmons had been upset, but he couldn't shake the feeling that they had broken through some sort of barrier. They were going to be okay.

Simmons watched as he walked down the hall, the inescapable truth suddenly hitting her:

She loved Fitz.


	34. One of Us - S2E13

"I just can't believe May was married," Simmons blurted out as she passed Fitz in the hall between their bunks. The engineer paused, eyes wide.

"Wha-" He started.

"I mean, it's just so odd we wouldn't know about it, right? Who else around here has a big secret like that? Do you think Coulson is secretly married? Skye has a twin?" Simmons barreled on.

"Or Ward is Hydra?" Fitz asked, pointedly.

Simmons froze, her smile dropping. "Oh, well, yes, I suppose that's one example..." She trailed off, studying her toes.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to..." Fitz started, then cleared his throat. "How about I get dressed and then we can finish this conversation. Have you had dinner yet?"

Get dressed? Simmons' eyes flew down and she was shocked to see Fitz's bare chest, a towel wrapped around his hips. His hair was darker than usual, water droplets clinging to curls.

"Oh!" Simmons exclaimed, her face immediately flushing a deep red. "I'm sorry, I..." She started, then trailed off, unable to recover quickly enough to pull together a coherent sentence. And seeing Fitz shirtless wasn't helping. It had been a long time since they had vacationed at the beach together during Spring Break at the Academy, and Simmons couldn't help but think that Fitz's body looked much more... symmetrical than it had when she last saw it. Had he always had such defined upper arms?

She started to reach forward to grab his arm, but Fitz clearing his throat ripped her back into reality. She looked up to see his face a matching deep rep to her's, but a look in his eyes she'd never seen before - humor? disbelief? confusion? He shook his head and the look quickly disappeared, but a small, hopeful smile remained, quirking up the sides of his mouth.

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Fitz, I just saw you and was so eager to continue our conversation from earlier, I didn't really realize, you know how I can be when I'm focused, and we seemed to really be getting along during our gossip about May and her ex-husband, didn't we, just like old times, and I just was so intent on continuing that, so I just..."

"Simmons!" Fitz said, putting a hand on her shoulder to cut her off. Now he definitely was smiling. "I get it. I liked our conversation earlier, too."

"You did?" Asked Simmons, hopeful.

"Yes. Now. How about I meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes?" He asked patiently.

"Yes! Yes, that sounds good. Okay, I'll see you then."

"Okay," Fitz said, squeezing her shoulder and walking into his bunk, shutting the door.

Simmons stared at the closed door in front of her, feeling her face flush hotter and hotter as the awkwardness of the last few minutes finally caught up to her and the embarrassment threatened to overtake her.

She was shaken out of her shame spiral by Skye, whose uncontrolable laughter echoed from her room across the hall. Simmons quickly stepped into her frind's room and slammed the door shut, sliding her back down the door and collapsing on the floor, head in her hands.

"Oh. My. GOSH!" Simmons said, mortified.

Skye's laughter continued, the agent folded over on her bed, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Simmons! Oh my gosh, Simmons!" She squeeked through laughter, clutching her stomach. "That. Was. So. AMAZING!" She breathed out between bouts of laughter.

Simmons just groaned in response, head still clutched tight in her hands.

After a few moments, Skye's laughter subsided. "Simmons! What WAS that?!"

SImmosn groaned again, her voice muffled. "I don't know! I just - earlier, it felt like things were getting back to normal, and I was so excited to continue that, that I just... And he was... Oh my gosh, he was naked! And then I tried to GRAB HIS ARM, Skye!"

This set off another round of laughter in Skye. Her mirth was contagious, eventually giving Simmons the giggles and forcing the embarassed girl to drop her hands and wipe tears of laughter away.

"Oh, you've got it bad, girl," Skye said, calming down again. She sniffled and stretched her stomach muscles out a bit, tight from prolonged laughter. "Thank you for that. Seriously, that is the funniest thing - the most I've laughed in a long time. I had completely forgotten what total nerds you and Fitz are!"


	35. Love in the Time of Hydra - S2E14

"I need your advice."

Simmons' voice, softly coming out of Daisy's room, pulled Fitz up short. He had been about to storm into his room, slamming the door behind him after his argument with Simmons. But hearing her tone made him pause. Instead, the engineer gently opened his door and slipped inside his room, pulling the door closed just far enough that he could barely overhear the conversation coming from the room across the hall.

"I don't know if I'm the person for that - isn't Fitz usually your go-to advice guy?" Skye's voice filtered through the gap in his door.

"Well yes, usually, but..." Simmons paused and took a deep breath. Fitz shrugged off his jacket quietly and sat down on the floor near the door.

"I'm afraid that Fitz and I are..." She dragged off and Fitz heard a sniffle.

"Simmons?" Skye asked sharply.

"Well, I think we're through. In terms of what we used to be, I mean," Simmons said, her voice breaking halfway through the statement. "Fitz - he's... He can't forgive me and I don't think he even wants to be my friend anymore, so... That's over."

"What?" Asked Skye, shock coloring her reaction. Fitz squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to stay in place instead of jumping up to correct Simmons. She was just reacting to what he'd said earlier. The awful, awful things he shouldn't have said.

But that didn't make them any less true. And if he was constantly tripping over himself to apologize to Simmons every time he hurt her feelings, they would never get anywhere.

Still... Certainly she didn't think that they were really, truly, over, did she?

"But I'm not here to talk about Fitz, I'm here to talk about you," Simmons said, her voice suddenly stronger. Fitz could picture her, forcing her impeccably straight posture even more ramrod straight somehow, and wiping tears from her eyes. "Skye. You know I care about you, right? And that you're one of my closest friends - maybe my absolute closest friend, now," she continued, sadly.

"Uhhhhh yeah?" Skye said, sounding confused. Fitz didn't blame her, if he didn't know Simmons as well as he did, he'd get whiplash from this conversation, too.

"I hope that you know, Skye, that I don't what to change you. I would never want to change anything about you. I want to help you. And I -"

"But, Simmons," Skye tried to interject.

"Please, just let me finish," Simmons said quickly. "I... Fitz pointed something out earlier that I'd like to apologize for. I'm not trying to change you, and I want to apologize if I said at any point that I was trying to 'fix' you. That's jut the doctor in me, always wanting to fix everything around me... But I realize now that I shouldn't say I'm trying to fix you, because you're not broken. I'm simply trying to help you. And I..." She paused and Fitz could hear another sniff, this time paired with a soft murmur of encouragement from Skye. "I don't know how. I don't know how to help you. And I'm not used to not knowing! I just want to help and I'm useless to you, and I'm so, so sorry Skye."

"Simm-"

"He said I've changed," Simmons said quietly. "That I don't like who you've become. I don't think that, I swear! I just want.. It's like Fitz's injury all over again," Simmons sighed.

Fitz nodded to himself, that's exactly what he was trying to tell her earlier. She had spent so much time trying to fix him when he was injured that it stunted his improvements - he understood now why she had left, it made sense from a medical perspective. But it was just insane to him that Simmons hadn't learned anything from that, and here she was, trying to fix Skye.

"Yeah, it - wait, what do you mean when you say that?" Skye said.

"I try and try to help, but I just hurt you both," Simmons explained.

"No!" Skye's loud response startled Fitz, making him jump slightly from his position on the floor. "You - what? That's what Fitz said to you?!" Her angry voice made Fitz's eyes widen. He hadn't realized how intimidating Skye could get, just by voice alone.

"Where is that idiot," he heard her mutter, the sound of bedsprings indicating she was standing. "I'm gonna..."

"Wait, Skye-" Simmons' voice echoed through the hall, suddenly much closer to his door.

Fitz shot up and ran to his desk, flipping open his laptop and just having enough time to log in before his door slammed all the way open.

"You!" Skye said, pointing at him. "What did you say to her?" She asked, now pointing at Simmons, who was standing reluctantly in the far corner of Fitz's room, slightly behind Skye. "What?" Fitz asked, not really sure where this was going. "That's not really any of your -"

"Business? Yes, it is my business. It is most definitely my business if you are using my... medical... weirdness... powers... situation... thingy to pick a fight with your best friend!" Skye said, reaching out and grabbing Simmons, dragging her so she was now standing next to Fitz.

The man stood up and crossed his arms over his chest, doing everything to avoid Simmons' eyes.

"Simmons, I appreciate your apology, and I forgive you for saying you want to fix me. But at the same time, I know it's just you trying your best and not knowing what to do," Skye said, facing Simmons. Then, she turned to face Fitz, "Fitz, I appreciate you being there for me through all this madness."

Both Fitz and Simmons nodded mutely.

Skye breathed a deep sigh, "Okay, now that that's over with." She reached out and smacked Fitz lightly on the chest to emphasize each word, "How! Dare! You!" She narrowed her eyes and pointed at a shocked Fitz, "Do you know why Simmons wanted to 'fix' you after your injury? Why she wants to 'fix' me now?"

She paused, taking in Fitz and Simmons' wide eyes. "Because she LOVE US SO MUCH!" Skye said, practically shouting as she threw her hands up. "Simmons will do anything to help her friends - you know this better than anyone, Fitz - and in the past year, she's watched her two closest friends struggle with medical conditions she can't do anything to fix. We are completely out of her control. She drives herself crazy and gets frustrated to the point of tears with us because she LOVES US! How dare you say she's 'changed' when all she's ever done is try to help us. Did she go about it the right way? Not always. But everything she did was motivated in love."

"So get over yourselves, forgive each other, and be best friends again! Because frankly, I'm sick of everyone around here keeping secrets and I'm really sick of watching Simmons cry. We're just a team now, and I want to get back to being a family again. And we can't be a family without FITZSIMMONS!"

At this, she slammed her hand on Fitz's desk, causing the two shocked agents to jump slightly. "So quit being 'Fitz in the garage and Simmons in the lab,' and BE! FITZSIMMONS!"

Skye whirled around and stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her, leaving the pair to stare awkwardly at each other.

After a long moment, Fitz broke the silence. "Uhh… When was the last time you watched Doctor Who?" He asked, scratching behind his ear and studying the ground.

Simmons broke into a wide smile.


	36. One Door Closes - S2E15

_Author's Note: Welcome back, readers! Thank you for the kudos and comments - keep them coming! I'm going to try to update this story with some regularity. I can't promise a schedule until I really get going, but I'm aiming for a minimum of one chapter a week. Finally starting to see the light at the end of the season 2 tunnel helps - it's hard to write FitzSimmons so broken like they were all that season._

Also, I'm looking at this writing as a form of therapy since that season 5 finale was... Let's just say NOT AT ALL what I hoped it would have been.

"Careful!" Fitz yelled, arms crossed. "That's very valuable!"

The SHIELD agent - if that's even what they are - that was rifling through books on Simmons' desk paused, holding up a well-worn light purple spiral ring notebook. He raised his eyebrow as though to say, "Really? This is valuable?"

Fitz just huffed, staring the agent down. "I'm sorry, do you have old notebooks filled with groundbreaking research from your first doctorate that you got at age 14? No? Then I'm not surprised you don't understand its value."

He marched over to Simmons' desk and yanked the notebook out of the man's hand, carefully returning it its designated space on Simmons' immaculate bookshelf.

"Agent Fitz, you're going to have to ask you to step back and let us do our jobs," Agent Weaver said from the doorway of Simmons' room, where she was supervising the search of Simmons' things.

Fitz rolled his eyes and continued to hover, barking at everyone who touched Simmons' things. "That's Doctor Fitz to you, since I'm not so sure I want to be an agent of whatever team you seem to think you're running," he said, not making eye contact with Weaver.

"Hey! What do you think you're going to find in the medicine cabinet? The world's most dangerous hairbrush?" He yelled at another agent across the room, marching over to follow their every move.

"Fitz, calm down," Bobbi's soft voice came from the corner of the room, where she was carefully going through a pile of books she had laid across the bed. Simmons stood silently next to her, eyes coldly following everyone's move as her room was torn to shreds.

"You can call me Doctor Fitz, too," Fitz muttered, not sparing Bobbi a glance.

Simmons saw the hurt flash in Bobbi's eyes as she directed her attention back to the books, but didn't say anything. Since Ward's betrayal, the whole team took it pretty hard when they were lied to. Fitz especially.

Bobbi should've trusted them and told them what was going on. Simmons still didn't quite understand if, it she was being honest.

"This is an absolute snark hunt, but honestly, I hope you find something," she said flippantly to the agents in the room. "Because there's nothing in here more interesting than my diary, and I certainly don't think that contains any international secrets. I think the most scandalous thing in there are my thoughts on Fitz's cardigans."

"I - wha - you -" Fitz suddenly appeared next to her, his stutter suddenly reappearing with a force. "You write about my cardigans in your diary?" He asked in hushed tones, his face turning red.

"Of course, I was tracking your pattern of wearing them so I could get you one for your birthday that I know you would find suitable," Simmons said. "I like your blue ones best," she continued, before her attention was drawn by an agent pulling open the top drawer of her dresser.

"Hey!" Fitz shouted, following Simmons' gaze and marching over to investigate what the agent was doing.

Seeing the man's hands shifting aside colorful fabric in the drawer, Fitz froze, his face turning even brighter red than it was before. He stuttered for a moment, trying to collect his thoughts, before his fists curled into balls and he narrowed his eyes at the agent.

"Get. Your hands. Out. Of her underwear drawer." He said clearly and quietly.

Simmons approached and laid a soft hand on Fitz's shoulder in an attempt to rein him in. "I'm sorry, I should've mentioned that I keep state secrets tucked away with all my knickers," she said snidely, watching in amusement as all the men in the room slowly got more and more uncomfortable. All the men except Fitz, that is, as he looked like he might actually kill the agent going through her things.

"Sam, that's enough," Bobbi's voice called, putting an end to the searching. The man in question just glanced at Bobbi as he pulled out a long, flat box from the bottom of Simmons' drawer, causing a light blue lace bra to fall out.

But the biochemist didn't notice, suddenly fixated on the box. "That has nothing to do with this!" She said quickly, reaching for the box. Sam pulled back at the same time and the box opened up, its contents falling onto the floor.

"No!" Simmons said quickly, yanking the now empty box from Sam's hand and falling to her knees, trying to stuff the contents into the box quickly.

Fitz quickly knelt too, intending to help her pick up everything, but froze when he saw what they were collecting. It was... Well... Them. Their history.

Pictures he recalled seeing hung in Simmons' room at the Academy that he had long since assumed she'd hidden in some scrapbook stored back at her parents' house. More recent pictures that had hung in her room on the Bus that he feared had been tossed when she went undercover at Hydra. Well-worn Post-Its covered with his own scrawling handwriting that he couldn't even remember writing, they were so insignificant. He caught a glimpse of one that said "Good luck on test tmrw." The program from their graduation they had scrawled all over, passing notes and playing hangman during the boring three hour ceremony. A birthday card he remembered getting her a few years ago. Even more random things he would've labeled as junk: a used birthday candle, bottle top, a cracked seashell, a folded up takeout menu, a ticket stub, a piece of confetti.

"Simmons?" He asked, confused.

His friend was silent, cramming everything in the box and grabbing her fallen bra last, stacking in top of everything and shoving it all back in the drawer and slamming it shut.

"I think we're done here," Bobbi said quietly, gazing sadly at Simmons, who was busily studying her shoes, avoiding Fitz's eyes. "I'm sorry, Simmons," she said quietly as she pointed the team out of the room. "You know we had to conduct a search, no matter who it is. We were in Skye's bunk before this."

Simmons ignored her, watching the agents filing out of her room turning in the direction of the kitchen. "Hey! So Fitz doesn't get to enjoy your invasion of privacy, then? It's just me?"

The agents paused and looked at each other, bewildered. "Him?" One of them asked, pointing at Fitz. "This isn't his bunk, too?"

FitzSimmons stared at the agent then glanced at each other in unison. Why in the world would he think they lived together?


	37. Afterlife - S2E16

_New message from: APond87_

Fitz's fingers stilled on the keyboard as he saw the notification pop up on his tablet. He looked up at Simmons, who looked like she was playing Words with Friends on her phone. Risking a glance at Bobbi, Fitz saw that she was still in deep conversation with the other agents who were supposed to be keeping an eye on the pair of scientists.

He clicked on the notification to read the message.

 _APond87 : Remember that summer you got obsessed with magic?_

Fitz stared at the message, turning bright red at the memory, and wondering why in the world Simmons would be texting him - on the secure messaging program he had developed and no one even knew about - to remind him of his rather embarrassing interests as a 15-year old.

 _APond87 : Do you think you can still pull off some slight of hand?_

The next message popped up before he could respond to the first one, and now Fitz was _really_ stumped. He glanced up at Simmons, who still looked to be playing games on her phone. Not looking up, she must have sensed Fitz's stare, as she gave an almost imperceptible shake "no" with her head.

Getting the message, Fitz returning his attention to the screen and typed out a response.

 _FF &Custard: yeah i think so_

 _FF &Custard: bad hand might muck things up a bit_

 _FF &Custard: why_

 _FF &Custard: what am i swapping_

A thought bubble popped up and out of the corner of his eye Fitz saw Simmons shift slightly in her position next to the lab table.

Finally, a message appeared from Simmons, simply a picture of the small black box sitting on the table.

Fitz gasped in surprise, quickly covering with a cough when Bobbi turned to glance at him. Studiously avoiding looking at his phone or in Simmons' general direction, Fitz's mind ran a mile a minute. He could create a duplicate toolbox, easily. He had one halfway done in the lab anyway, the result of a moment of idle boredom last week.

If he switched out the real toolbox with a fake without the other SHIELD - or whatever Bobbi was calling them - noticing, he and Simmons would be able to get it off base. They could escape with the toolbox and somehow find Coulson.

Fitz risked a glance at Simmons who was now staring at him intently. For a second Fitz sent up a silent prayer of thanks that finally, _finally_ , it seemed like they were back on the same page, as he was certain they were communicating via their psychic link.

 _FF &Custard: great idea_

 _FF &Custard: i swap it and we get out and find coulson & team somehow_

Fitz smiled to himself, satisfied with the plan and with their teamwork.

 _APond87: You swipe it, and YOU get out and find the team._

The grin melted off Fitz's face.

 _FF &Custard: what will u b doing_

 _APond87: I stay here to distract Bobbi and the rest._

Fitz's head shot up to stare angrily at Simmons, but she appeared to be scrolling through Instagram. A sudden memory of their time at the academy where she got great at texting and getting away with it during class flashed through his mind.

 _FF &Custard: u want to just stay here and i run off to find coulson_

 _APond87: Well, I don't necessarily_ ** _want_** _to do that, but I think that's the best plan._

 _FF &Custard: alone?_

 _APond87: Seeing as you would not be here, yes, I would be alone._

 _FF &Custard: no_

 _APond87: Why not, Fitz? It's a good plan and should easily work to get the toolbox out and to Coulson._

 _FF &Custard: No._

 _APond87: Why?_

 _FF &Custard: im not leaving you alone_

 _APond87: Oh, Fitz, it won't be for long! If everything goes well, once you get the toolbox to Coulson and the others, you can work on an extraction plan for me._

 _FF &Custard: and what happens if everything doesnt go 2 plan_

Fitz watched the thought bubble hover next to Simmons' name, then disappear, then reappear again. He risked a glance at the girl who was now staring intently at her phone, eyes squinted in thought. Finally, she responded.

 _APond87: I know we don't like to talk about it, but must I remind you that I've been on solo missions before? I think if I can handle being undercover at Hydra, I can fake confusion for a day or two around Bobbi._

Fitz flinched, the harsh reminder of Simmons' time undercover. It was a painful memory on two fronts: they had been out of touch and she could have easily been killed. Which brought him to his next point.

 _FF &Custard: i know u can do undercover work. but if it goes wrong u dont have backup. at hydra u had bobbi. im not leaving u without backup_

At that, Simmons looked up and caught Fitz's eye. A sad smile tugged on her face as she typed out a final message.

 _APond87: You have to._

 _APond87: It's the only way and you know it._

Fitz suddenly stood and roughly shoved his chair away as he slipped his phone in his pocket and headed for the door.

"Fitz?" Bobbi asked, blocking his exit.

"Since we're just sitting here and you're not actually asking us any questions, I figured I would go to my room and take a nap. Or is that not allowed, either?" Fitz snapped, glaring at his former teammate.

"Yeah, it's..." Bobbi said, taken aback by his outburst, "That should be fine, Fitz," she said softly, stepping back so the engineer could storm out of the room.

Fitz caught one last glimpse of Simmons as he left, her eyes wide in confusion. Once back in his room with the door closed, he pulled out his phone to send her one word.

 _FF &Custard: fine_

Dropping the phone on his bed, Fitz stretched out and cracked his knuckles, then pulled a box of tools out from under his bed. He could finish his work on the imposter toolbox easily, and have plenty of leftover tools and materials to build Simmons several small weapons. If he couldn't be there to back her up in person, he would make certain she had a small armory at her disposal.


End file.
